#offering Lucien the chance to just walk away from all this— | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starryevermore · 1 year ago

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i will go to secret gardens in my mind ✧ tamlin

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pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader

summary: you have always been a wallflower, but to tamlin, you are the finest rose in the garden.

word count: 7,676

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, unrequited feelings, pining, multi pov, plot twist perchance??, not proofread

PART TWO

The Spring Court had been rebuilt. What would have been a joyous occasion under any other circumstances, for perhaps any other court, left your family scowling as they looked over the invitation that landed on Rhysand’s desk this morning. An invitation to all courts—to come to Spring and celebrate the burgeoning court. No one, it seemed, wanted to go. It was understandable, of course. After everything that Spring’s High Lord, Tamlin, had put Feyre through—had put your entire family through—it almost felt like walking into a trap. But call you naïve, or perhaps a tad too optimistic for your own good, but you wanted to believe that Tamlin might have truly turned over a new leaf. Sometimes, it took someone losing everything to learn the value of all that they hold dear. No one wanted to go, it seemed, except for you.

Well, and Lucien, but he often fought in Tamlin’s corner. “Tamlin is a far cry from what you remember him as,” he said. “What he did to Feyre was horrible, but he’s trying to make amends. Isn’t the point of the Night Court to offer second chances?”

“We don’t owe that worm a second chance,” Nesta snarled, her eyes narrowing at Lucien.

“It might be good for Feyre to close this chapter of her life,” Lucien continued.

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Because you care so much about Feyre’s wellbeing. Remind me, what were you doing while she wasted away in that manor?”

“All I’m saying is, you should consider hearing him out. We all were troubled after Under the Mountain. His actions were, are, shameful, but that doesn’t mean he cannot regret what he did.”

You noticed the tension in Feyre’s shoulders and reached out, placing your hand on top of hers. “You don’t have to go. I just thought it might be fun. We haven’t just gone out in so long.”

Rhysand’s narrowed gaze turned on you. “Then we can go to Rita’s, or take a walk down the Sidra. Hell, I’m sure if we asked Tarquin, we could have a nice trip down to Summer if you’re wanting to go somewhere warm. We don’t have to go all the way to the damned Spring Court for fun.”

A sigh escaped your lips. You rose from your seat, turned to leave. “Forget I said anything.”

Feyre looked up at you. She said your name, standing to follow after you. “If you want to go—”

You waved her off. “It’s alright. I didn’t want to go that bad. I only thought it would be fun, but Rhys is right. We can do something else instead.”

She said your name again, but you ignored her. You understood why she of all people would be apprehensive of going to Spring. Trust and believe, you understood. Tamlin was hardly the most wonderful person in Prythian in your eyes. He let Feyre waste away, he sold you, Nesta, and Elain out to Hybern in a vain attempt to get Feyre back…At every turn, it seemed like he was dead set on humiliating her. But when it was all said and done, he still gave up a kernel of his power to bring back Rhysand. “Be happy, Feyre,” he’d said. It was nothing groundbreaking, it was not even close to an apology for all he’d done, but it seemed like a step in the right direction.

As you retreated to your room, you didn’t have to look to know you were being followed. Ever since Elain had accepted the mating bond with Lucien, Azriel always trailed so close behind you, he was like a second shadow. When you reached your room, you left the door open, allowing him to slip inside. The door clicked shut behind him.

You took a seat in the bay window, looking out over the city of Velaris. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

The cushion sank underneath Azriel’s weight. You moved over, avoiding your knees knocking into his. “I just want to know what’s going on in your mind.”

“Does it matter? Rhysand has made his decision clear.”

“Of course it matters. It matters to me.”

It should’ve tugged at your heartstrings to hear him say those words. But all you were reminded of was how Azriel pined after Elain for so long, and for Mor for centuries before that. You were all too aware that you were just the latest object of his affection. “I don’t know. I just…It feels like something is calling for me to go there. Something trying to tug me along until I finally cross over Spring’s border.”

When you spared Azriel a glance, you noted the way his jaw clenched and unclenched. “You should tell Rhys that. He might be more amenable.”

“Rhysand is hardly amenable to anything that isn’t already in his favor.” You shrugged. “It’s not as if I’m Elain, with some vision about why we need to go to Spring. I just…I don’t know. I have a feeling it’s somewhere I should be.”

Azriel looked you over. Perhaps he was trying to ascertain if you’ve lost your mind. And maybe you had. You could hardly explain the feeling, deep in your chest, that pulled you towards the Spring Court. The feeling only intensified when you learned of the invitation to come to Spring’s celebration. “I’ll talk to Rhys for you. He’s been wanting to forge alliances with the other courts. If he’s able to extend a hand to Spring, other courts might be willing to work with him.”

You shrugged again. “Do as you please.”

He reached for your hand. You allowed him to take it. At least you found a modicum of comfort in the gentle squeeze. Azriel’s mouth opened—to say what, you weren’t sure, for a knock sounded against your door. It opened shortly after, Feyre slipping inside. Her eyes fell to your joined hands. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. You pulled away. One of his shadows trailed after you.

“We’re going to Spring,” she said, smiling. But it didn’t reach her eyes.

You stood up, crossing the room in a few strides, then took Feyre’s hands. “We don’t have to if it’ll cause you pain. I don’t mean to dredge up those terrible memories.”

“I am High Lady. I can set aside those feelings for one night, if it might end in an alliance that will benefit my people. Besides, Lucien might be right. It might do me some good to speak with Tamlin under better circumstances.”

“Are you sure?”

She offered you a smile. “I’m sure.” She squeezed your hands. “You haven’t asked for much since you’ve come here. The least I can do is give you this.”

You shook your head. “No, Feyre, you’ve already gave up so much for our family—”

“Hush. If I didn’t want to do it, you know I wouldn’t.”

“Fine. But the second you’re uncomfortable, we all leave, okay?”

Feyre nodded. “Okay.”

Rhysand was certainly giving you the cold shoulder since Feyre insisted that you all go to the Spring Court, but you could hardly find it in yourself to care. Not when you finally got to trade in the darkness of Night for the blossoming life of Spring. You couldn’t wait to finally leave Night’s borders. You couldn’t quite remember the last time you had the opportunity to leave, save for the war with Hybern. Other than that, though, you had bounced between Rhysand’s many homes, going to whichever place made you least likely to pick a fight with the High Lord. These days, that was primarily the House of Wind, since he had given it to Cassian and Nesta. That, of course, left you with even fewer chances to go out. If you didn’t have an Illyrian to fly you down, you would have to brave the 10,000 stairs. And you were no Valkyrie—you were sure you wouldn’t even make it down a few dozen before throwing in the towel. Of course, you were certain that Azriel would be more than pleased to be at your beck and call.

After all, he sat on your bed now, watching as you rifled through your dresses, trying to pick something out to wear.

“You look beautiful in anything,” he said. “Why are you putting so much effort into this?” A hidden question was on the tip of his tongue—Were you trying to impress someone? Perhaps him?

“My mother always said, when you go outside, you look your best because you never know what will happen.”

Azriel stood up, crossing over to your wardrobe. A scarred hand wrapped around yours, stopping you from flicking through the dresses. His voice was husky as he asked, “And what do you think will happen?”

Your face grew warm. Even if you knew that he was only pursuing you because you were an Archeron, for a male to be so close to you…Well, it was easy to get you flustered. Stuck between Nesta’s vivaciousness and Elain’s sweetness, it was easy for you to fade into the background. When your family was better off, everyone flocked to Elain. After your family became rich again, Elain garnered so many men’s attention. Even Feyre, when your family was its lowest, found herself with someone, if just for the pursuit of pleasure. But you…You were a wallflower through and through.

“Anything. Nothing,” you said.

Your breath stilled as Azriel pulled a dress from your wardrobe. It was a beautiful blue tulle dress. Silver stars littered its entire body. There was a tasteful slit up one side. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, you knew there was a matching pair of long, sheer gloves. You had gotten it for Starfall, but found yourself tucking it away in favor of a simpler gown. It, however, wasn’t lost on you that its color complemented Azriel’s cobalt siphons well.

“You should wear this,” he said. “In case something does happen.”

You found yourself nodding.

A soft smile crossed his face. It took everything in you to not look away, lest you give him the wrong idea. You may have been a wallflower, but you were not a demure female. “I’ll let you get ready then.”

You nodded again.

Azriel placed the dress in your hands. You expected him to leave, but he lingered still. His hand grasped yours, pulling it up to meet his lips. He made eye contact with you the entire time, hazel eyes twinkling, before he pulled away.

When he was finally gone, a sigh escaped your lips. A part of you, you recognized, should have been delighted at Azriel’s attention. He was an attractive male. He had so many qualities that you admired—protective, loyal, kind. But anytime you looked at him, you were reminded of his past history with females. How he pined after Mor for centuries. How he fixated on Elain. In both cases, each made it clear in their own ways that it would never go further. And here you were, certain that you were sending clear signals that you were uninterested, and yet…There he remained. Where was Rhysand, telling him to leave you be? Could you only be left alone if you had a mate?

Perhaps it would be easier, you mused as you changed into the dress, if this tug in your chest was for Azriel. That, by going to Spring, something would happen that would make the bond snap for him. At least if he was your mate, you could convince him to get a home of your own, far away from the busybodies occupying the Inner Circle. At least you would finally feel free enough to breathe on your own.

You spared a glance in the mirror, satisfied with your hair and makeup, before leaving your room. It shouldn’t have surprised you to see Azriel waiting on the other side of the door, shadows swirling around him. His face brightened as he saw you. An arm was extended toward you. You took it.

“Beautiful, just as I expected.” Azriel smiled at you. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

All eyes were on the Inner Circle as you entered the manor, but you were too busy looking at everything else. Spring was…Mother, it was more beautiful than anything you had ever seen before. Not even Elain’s gardens held a candle to the beauty housed here. It was difficult to imagine how a Court so ethereal could have been in ruins just months before. It was easier, though, to see how Feyre could fall in love with this land.

It was even easier, you mused, to fall in love with Spring’s High Lord as he stepped into the Inner Circle’s path. It was the first time you really got a good look at him. When you were taken, you hadn’t dared look at your captors. And when you came out of the Cauldron, you cried so hard you couldn’t see. But the male before you now…Wow.

“Welcome,” he said, extending a hand to Rhysand. As Rhysand shook it, he turned to Feyre. “Thank you all for coming. I cannot imagine it was an easy decision to make.”

Feyre tilted her head in your direction. “Thank Lucien and my sister. It was their convincing arguments that brought us here.”

Tamlin’s emerald eyes fell to you. Something in your chest tugged harder, but you couldn’t dwell on it as Azriel took a subtle step in front of you. A charming smile passed across the High Lord’s lips. “Well, thank you, too,” he said. “And if I may, I must offer the utmost apologies for everything that transpired the last time our paths crossed. There is no excuse for my actions.”

You tried not to flinch at the mention of the Cauldron. The memory of being submerged as a human, reemerging as a fae…How everything was so different, too intense. It was, perhaps, the darkest part of your life thus far. You prayed it was never so dark again. “It wasn’t all bad,” you found yourself saying. “At least now I can live a long life with my sisters.”

“That is a generous way to think about it,” Tamlin said. He took a step toward you, a hand outstretched. His eyes flicked to Azriel as a growl escaped the Spymaster. Still, he reached for your hand. When you slipped it into his, he lifted it toward his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Something, something akin to joy, swirled inside of you. A tendril of a shadow pulled your hand from Tamlin’s. “Would you be so kind as to share a dance with me?”

“I—” The Inner Circle tensed around you, though you caught Lucien rolling his eyes at their antics. A dance didn’t seem so horrible, but you hated the way Feyre looked so uncomfortable at the prospect. You wished you were a daemati and could see what she was thinking. “Perhaps later. I should like to spend some time mingling.”

Tamlin seemed disappointed, but he still smiled as he said, “Of course. Have fun.”

He nodded at Feyre and Rhysand before disappearing into the crowd.

“It was like he disappeared the moment he laid eyes on Y/N,” Mor remarked, plucking a glass from a passing waiter’s tray.

“Don’t,” Feyre warned. She looked at you, her eyes wide with worry. “Don’t fall for his charms. Dance with him if you so wish. But…I don’t know how much I believed him to have changed.”

“I won’t. I haven’t forgotten what he’s done to you. It will take more than charming smiles and offers for dances to win me over,” you said, turning away from her. Your heart clenched at her distrust. Well, perhaps it wasn’t distrust. To be here, to be in Spring again, must have been extraordinarily difficult for her. But you were her sister. You knew her struggles, her pain, better than most. You weren’t going to throw all that away because Tamlin was kind to you. You weren’t that sort of female.

A scarred hand caught your wrist before you could slip away into the crowd, perhaps find a nice corner to hide in and people watch. “Would you? Like to dance?” Azriel asked.

“I see Kallias and Viviane. I would like to say hello.”

You could feel the Inner Circle’s eyes on you as you disappeared into the throng of fae. Though you were no daemati, you could practically hear their collective thoughts: You would be better off with Azriel. But what did they know about you?

Coming here was a mistake. You’d decided so hours ago as you could see various members of the Inner Circle keeping tabs on you from the corner of your eye. Despite hardly making a move from the corner you resided in, save for trips to the refreshment table or conversations with the few friends you had made from other courts, they still hovered. You wondered if it was under Rhysand’s orders, or perhaps Feyre’s. To make sure you didn’t slip away to dance with Tamlin, become the next pretty thing trapped in his gilded cage.

You sucked your tongue against your teeth as you watched Azriel approach you from across the room, Nesta and Cassian slipping off onto the dance floor. The changing of the guards. Your eyes rolled. Of everyone, Azriel’s presence was the worst. While the others would linger, he would stay by your side, trying to coax conversations out of you or pull you over for a dance. It might have been sweet if you weren’t all too aware that it was a vain effort to keep you from Tamlin. And unlike the others, who would have been merely following orders from the High Lady and Lord, Azriel had his own ulterior motives.

When you lost sight of Azriel, dancing couples blocking each other’s view of the other, you took the opportunity to slide out a nearby door and into the hall. They would be furious to learn you left—especially when it was because of you that they were even here. But you couldn’t handle the hovering any longer.

The music from the ballroom soon faded into the background as you walked down the hall, searching for some sanctuary. There were groups of fae lingering around the hallway, but none paid you any mind. It was refreshing, if you were being honest. They had no idea who you were, who your sisters were, of what they had done to save Prythian (or doom this court). You smiled at one couple, wrapped up in each other’s arms, blissfully unaware of all that happened around them.

You spied an open door and slipped inside. It was far smaller than the ballroom, but still grand. Paintings hung along the walls—a few you recognized to be in Feyre’s style. The thing that caught your eye, though, was the handsome piano in the middle of the room. A smile tugged at your lips. It had been so long since you’d had a chance to play. During your family’s dark years, you of course didn’t have access to any instruments, much less one so expensive. When you arrived in Velaris, straight out of the Cauldron, you had clung to the instrument, letting all of your pain flow out of you until there was nothing left. These days, though, you had strayed away.

You took a seat at the bench and ran your fingers along the ivory keys. You tested a few notes to see if it was still in key, but you didn’t make it very far.

“Do you play?”

Tamlin stood in the doorframe, watching you curiously. Panic settled in your chest. If the Inner Circle, if Feyre, found out that you were alone with Spring’s High Lord, you knew they would be less than pleased. But that tug in your chest—it pulled harder than it ever had before, and that brought you an odd sort of comfort.

“Yes.”

“May I hear you play something?”

You eyed him, trying to ascertain if this was some trick. As much as you wanted to believe your family was being overdramatic, you did wonder if they knew something you didn’t. When you sensed no ill motives, you gave a nod.

As you pressed down on the keys, it felt like everything melted away around you. There was no inter-court politics to be wary of. No Shadowsingers following close on your heels. No sisters whose heart would surely break if she knew you were letting him in. Just you and the music that flowed out.

“That was beautiful,” he said as the final note rang through the room. He took a few steps closer to you. Tamlin extended a hand. “I wish, though, that I could still hear it while we danced. If you would like to, that is.”

You stared at his outstretched hand.

“Just say the word if you don’t wish to. I know you didn’t dance out there, but I thought, perhaps, without all those eagle eyes watching you—”

You took his hand. “I’m not the best dancer.”

“That’s alright. Neither am I.”

Tamlin was a right liar, he was. As he spun you around the room, you clumsily just missing his feet, you knew he was a liar. But the awkward dance made you laugh, harder than you had in a long time. The tug in your chest pulled more than it ever had before.

“If this is you at your worst, I would hate to see how skilled you would be after a few lessons,” you teased.

“We could take lessons together,” Tamlin suggested. The thought made your smile grow, though you weren’t entirely sure why. “Maybe after tonight, your High Lord will let you visit more often.”

“Perhaps—” you began to say.

“That will never happen.”

Shadows swirled around you, tugging you out of Tamlin’s arms. You gasped, a chill running down your spine. Large wings kept Tamlin out of your view. When you tried to look around Azriel, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place.

“Did he do something to you?” Azriel asked.

“What? No!”

“You just disappeared. Everyone’s in a panic. Feyre looked ready to kill, Nesta ready to hide the body. We didn’t know what happened to you. We didn’t know if you were hurt or—” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at Tamlin. “—or worse.”

“I’m fine! I’m not some damsel in distress—”

“Of course not. But you have to understand—”

“No! You have to understand that you are not my knight in shining armor, Azriel! I am not so stupid to just waltz headfirst into danger. If I ever found myself in such a position, I would have screamed or called out for Rhysand and prayed he was listening. I do not need saving, especially not—” You caught Tamlin’s eye over Azriel’s shoulder. Something snapped into place, a golden thread tying you to him. “—especially not with my mate.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. Hurt, maybe? Or anger? “He can’t be—”

“He is. He is the reason I felt the calling to come to Spring, Az. He’s my mate, and you have to respect that.”

Behind you, you heard a flurry of footsteps as the room quickly filled. Your eyes squeezed shut. Fuck. Was it not enough to have to deal with Azriel? Did everyone else have to come, too?

Feyre’s voice rang through the room. “Y/N, come here, please.”

“I should be allowed to make the choice to come, shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what the Night Court is all about?” You looked at her, a solitary tear dropping down your face. “What? Are choices not allowed when it goes against your wishes?”

“Please,” she repeated, her hand reaching out for you.

Tamlin stepped around Azriel, stood by your side. “I would not hurt her, Feyre. I have given you every reason to distrust me, to hate me, but I wouldn’t do anything to her.”

Feyre closed the distance between the two of you, Rhysand hot on her heels. She snarled at Tamlin, “I have every reason to not believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“I understand—”

Her finger jabbed at his chest. “Don’t. Don’t you dare give me any honeyed words or false promises about how Y/N—my sister—being your mate changes things. A skunk still stinks even when it hasn’t sprayed.”

“Feyre, please, can’t we just talk this through—” you tried. This was going horribly wrong. You hadn’t imagined any of this would happen just by following the tugging in your chest. A mate, you might have suspected. But all of this—

Her head snapped toward you. Her eyes glazed over as Rhysand spoke into her mind. When they cleared, she spoke with the authority of a High Lady but with none of the love of a sister.“You said we could leave if I became uncomfortable. I would like to leave,” Feyre said. “Rhys, please, get her out of here.”

Rhysand’s hands were on you, winnowing you away, before you could even dare to make your protests. But you didn’t miss the pain in Tamlin’s beautiful emerald eyes.

Feyre had made a terrible mistake. Since that horrible, awful ball, you were moved into the River House so she and Rhys could keep an eye on you. While you might not have been able to leave the House of Wind without an Illyrian to fly you down or otherwise brave the 10,000 steps, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try to go. At least here, they could make sure you remained in place. Anyone who wished to see you, save for Spring’s Cauldron damned High Lord, could. They just needed to make are that something horrible wouldn’t happen.

But you hadn’t left your room in weeks. They would send food up to you, but would find only small bites taken out of it when they came for the next meal. You had said scarcely a single word. The only time you would move from your bed was to take a bath, where you would sit for hours still. Once, Feyre had gone to check on you, to make sure that you hadn’t hurt yourself, and found you staring at the bubbled water, unblinking. You hadn’t even realized she was there.

The only person you seemed to respond to was Azriel. He would go to your room, crawl in your bed, and play with your hair. Sometimes, Feyre would linger in the doorway, watching you and him. Azriel would talk to you, try and convince you to leave your room. You would only cry.

And now, Feyre paced the length of Rhys’s office, chewing on the corner of a fingernail. Rhys sat at his desk, his face leaned against his palm.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t know how to make this better. She, she’s wasting away in there.”

Rhys let out a sigh. “There is an obvious solution to the problem, though not the preferred one.”

Feyre spun on her heel, narrowing her eyes at her mate. “You know perfectly well that I can’t just let her be with Tamlin. It would be safer sending her into a viper’s den.”

He rose and crossed the room, took her hands in his own. “You don’t mean that. You and Tamlin were not right for each other, especially after everything that happened Under the Mountain. You no longer wanted the same things as him. Was his actions wrongful? Of course. He could have tried to help you, but you also pushed him away. It was doomed from the start.”

“And I should let her go into a doomed relationship with him?” Feyre poked her finger at Rhys’s chest. “She is too good for that. She deserves a better mate.”

“I agree. But the Mother found reason to bind their souls together. You once thought I was something straight out of a nightmare, but look how far we’ve come.”

“I recall you hating Tamlin for everything he did to me.”

“And I do. I still do.” A sigh escaped Rhys’s lips. “But I also look at Y/N and remember having to leave you behind in Spring. I remember collapsing in Mor’s arms, begging for just a chance with you. I was a shell of myself then. I worry that if we keep them apart, we’ll lose her either way.”

Feyre turned away. She looked toward the door. For a flicker of a moment, she wished she could go back to that horrible cottage, when she was still a human. Even if survival was a struggle at best, she didn’t have to worry about your sweet soul being taken advantage of.

“Send a letter to Tamlin,” she finally said. “Tell him he is welcome to come here. If Y/N so wishes to leave with him, she may. But make clear, if a single hair on her head is harmed, if we receive a single word that she is being treated as anything less than what she deserves, it will constitute an act of war.”

Tamlin stared up at the River House. He had moved faster than he had ever moved before when the invitation to come to the Night Court was extended. So fast, he realized with a glance at his feet, he forgot to put on shoes before winnowing away. He hoped you wouldn’t mind. Ever since Rhysand had winnowed you out from under his nose, he had been a mess. If Tamlin thought losing Feyre was him at his lowest, it paled in comparison to losing you. Worse yet, he had the previous experience to know he couldn’t give into his desperate impulses and expect everything to go smoothly. No, he had to tread carefully.

Still, he found himself sending you letters over the last few weeks. Tamlin never received a response, but he never expected one. He wasn’t sure how well you were being surveilled, if the Inner Circle were taking active steps to keep you from contacting him. But he hoped his words brought you some modicum of comfort.

The door swung open before he had a chance to knock. Rhysand looked him over. “You didn’t have time to at least make yourself presentable?”

“I thought if I took too much time, the invitation would be rescinded.”

Rhysand’s brow raised. “I wasn’t aware you could have such intelligent thoughts. You know, since you had sided with Hybern so readily in the beginning.”

Tamlin bit back a snarl. It would not end well to pick a fight with Night’s High Lord. He knew good and well he was out-powered, and he was sure that Feyre’s threat should also extend to any threat her own mate faced. Instead, he said as diplomatically as he could manage, “It was a terrible mistake, but one I would make again if it would give me a chance to live a long life with my mate, should she so have me.”

Feyre appeared, pushing Rhysand out of the doorway. She, too, scrutinized his appearance, nose wrinkling at the sight of him, but at least had the courtesy to say nothing about it. “You came quickly.”

Somewhere in the distance, Tamlin could hear Cassian chortle and mutter something about “that’s what she said.”

“I did not know how long this invitation of hospitality might remain open.” Tamlin searched Feyre’s eyes, searching for a sign of your wellbeing. “Is she alright?”

Tamlin watched as Feyre swallowed, her hands subtly shaking. She had always cared deeply about her sisters, perhaps you more than Nesta or Elain. Where Nesta could hold her own and Elain was sweet enough to charm any potential suitor, she worried that you were too quiet for your own good. Too willing to slip into the shadows and be forgotten.

“She has hardly eaten since that night. We…We have fixed dinner. We thought she might be more amenable if you brought a plate to her room?”

“Of course, of course,” Tamlin said. Feyre moved out of the threshold, motioning for him to step inside. He did. “Has she…?”

“She hasn’t said a word. She just sits and stares. I thought females were able to suppress the bond. I don’t understand why she is so afflicted.”

Tamlin suppressed an eye roll. He had to play nice, at least until he could see you again. Until he could find out if you wished to be his mate. “You took her choice away, Feyre,” he bit out, weighing his words carefully. “Anyone would be heartbroken by such a betrayal. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Rhysand snarled, but Tamlin ignored him. He maintained eye contract with Feyre until she looked away, gesturing to the dining room. “Take a plate to her room. Just up the stairs, third door on the right.”

He gave a curt nod and did as directed. Every step weighed him down. Tamlin was grateful, at least, for the plate in his hand, to distract him from the sinking feeling in his chest. Neither you nor him had closed off the bond. Tamlin felt every bit of your anguish and he had done everything he could to send comfort down the bond. Every day, he prayed to the Mother that it helped you. Now, as he stood on the other side of your door, he wasn’t sure it did.

The door was ever so slightly ajar. Tamlin pushed it open. The sight nearly made him fall to his knees. You were laying in bed, back to him, staring out the large window overlooking the gardens. If it wasn’t for a subtle rise and fall of your chest, he might have thought you dead. Tamlin stepped inside, walking around your bed, until he faced you. He set the plate on your nightstand and knelt in front of you.

“Have my dreams begun to torment me, too?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Tamlin whispered back. He reached out, cupping your face in his hand. His thumb run over the swell of your cheek. “I am here. I am real. Feyre allowed me to come.”

“I cannot even trust my subconscious now,” you said. You rolled over onto your back and stared up at the ceiling. Your comforter moved with you, revealing the papers you kept clutched against your chest. Your eyes fell shut.

Tamlin sat on the edge of your bed. He reached over and brushed your hair from your face. “Open your eyes, please. I am here. Feyre had Rhysand send me a letter, inviting me here. I can show you if you like?”

An eye opened. “I doubt you could. Everyone knows that written word in dreams hardly makes sense.”

He pulled the letter tucked away in his pocket. Carefully unfolding it, he pressed it into your hands. Your other eye opened. Slowly, you sat up, dropping the other letters—his letters—from your grip. Your eyes scanned over the page, once, twice, three times. Slowly, you looked up, as if seeing him for the first time.

“You’re here?”

“I am.”

“Feyre allowed it?”

“She did.”

Your hand moved to your mouth. You chewed on your thumbnail. “She would hate me if I left.”

“She would not. And, even if she did, that is her burden to bear. Feyre cannot keep you sheltered here anymore than I could her.” Tamlin grabbed the plate and held it out to you. “Could you eat first, before we talk about this? Please?”

You stared at the plate for a long, silent more. Tamlin nearly thought you hadn’t heard him. He was ready to ask again, the words on the tip of his tongue, when you looked up at him. “Could we go to the gardens to eat?”

“Of course.”

Tamlin extended a hand to you. You slipped yours into his grasp. Joy soured through him. He bit back his smile as he helped you to your feet. His hands were quick to move to your waist, steadying you as you swayed. How long had you been laying there, in that bed? Had you even left it? A part of him, a territorial part he worked hard to keep at bay, had half a mind to scold Feyre for waiting this long. He, of course, would be a hypocrite if he did. But you also deserved someone in your corner.

Slowly, the two of you moved out of your room and down the stairs. At the creak in the wooden steps, all conversation in the dining room ceased. There was a scrape of a chair. Feyre appeared in the doorway as you reached the bottom step. You didn’t make eye contact with your sister as you turned for the exit.

“Y/N wished to eat in the gardens,” Tamlin said and followed after you. He did not wait for Feyre’s response.

You stared at Tamlin, chewing on the bread that Elain had made. He made no protest when you plopped yourself on the dirt path. He only sat across from you and watched as you slowly ate your food. It nearly made you sick, if you were honest. You hadn’t experienced this level of hunger since you were human. You remembered when Feyre would bring food home, how you would have to eat slowly so you wouldn’t vomit it all up. There was something about such extreme hunger that it almost felt like food couldn’t save you from the gnawing pain.

“I still do not quite believe you’re really here,” you said.

“I can promise you, I am.” Tamlin reached for your hand, and you allowed him to take it. His thumb stroked over your knuckles. “I have missed you. If I wasn’t concerned that an unprompted arrival would have waged a war no court could surely handle, I would have come sooner.”

“It was not right what they did…” You trailed off.

Tamlin’s emerald green eyes twinkled with curiosity. “But?” he prompted.

“I am not sure I can find it in my heart to leave them,” you said. His face dropped. His hand started to pull away, but you tightened your grip. “Feyre and Nesta are still here. While Feyre may have given the order to take me away, she is my sister. She sacrificed so much for our family. I feel like I would be throwing it all back in her face to go to Spring with you. At least when Elain left, she was going with Lucien to Day. People she could trust, you know. I worry that if I leave with you, she would never see me again.”

He straightened. “I would never keep you from your sister. Any of them. I have done little to prove such, but I have learned from my mistakes with Feyre. I have grown, am still growing, from them.”

“Not because of you,” you corrected. “You know how she feels about you. Even if I extend an invitation to her, she still may never come. And she may never extend one back. I could never forgive myself if I damaged our relationship so.”

Tamlin’s eyes searched yours. For what, you couldn’t be certain.

“If she does so, she would be the one to damage the relationship. I have hurt her greatly, I understand. But, if she chooses to plant herself between you and I, that is her choice to make and her consequences to bear.” He reached over, cradling your face in his hand. “You are a grown female. If this is a mistake of its own, then it is your mistake to make. She cannot keep you here any better than I tried to keep her in Spring.”

You looked away. You pushed the plate away and began to rise. Tamlin followed after you. As you began to walk down the path, he trailed after you. He kept a distance between you, far enough that he wasn’t on your heels but close enough that he could be at your side in a few long strides.

In your heart, you knew he was right. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal, no matter how hard you tried. After everything Feyre has done, after all she has suffered, staying with her was the least you could do. Yet, why would you sacrifice your happiness for hers when she was so quick to rip it from you without even listening to what you had to say? You could not yet forget the cold look in her eyes as she ordered Rhysand to winnow you away. She was not your sister then. She was anything but.

“Come to Spring,” Tamlin said from behind you. You paused in your step. You did not turn, but you listened. “It does not have to be permanent. Come to Spring, see if this is worth it. If you decide that it is not, then I will not stop you from returning here. I will respect whatever choice you make, but I would appreciate it if you could give us a fair shot. That is all I ask of you, I swear it.”

You turned. You looked past Tamlin at the River House. You were certain that Feyre and Rhysand were trying to listen in on the conversation. You were sure they were waiting for your answer. But, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care what they thought. After all, they hadn’t cared to ask if you even wanted Tamlin as a mate.

“One chance,” you said. “One chance, and if I decide to that I would rather a relationship with Feyre, you must not follow.”

“I promise, whatever you decide in the end, I shall respect it.”

Feyre watched as you gripped Tamlin’s arm, an apologetic smile on your lips. She had a million things she wished to say to you—a hundred warnings, a few hundred thousand promises to have her door open to you if you ever want to come back, and an acceptance to the offer to visit Spring in a month’s time. Instead of saying any of those things, she mouthed a goodbye while Tamlin winnowed you away.

Rhys’s hand fell to her shoulders, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. Somewhere in the distance, she could see Nesta and Cassian hovering. Elain and Lucien busied themselves with clearing the dishes.

“She’ll be alright,” Rhys said. “He is not so stupid as to make the same mistakes again.”

Feyre hummed. “Is this where you say it's different with mates?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen too many awful mated couples to say that with any ounce of sincerity. But, I will say, he does seem different with her.”

“And if he isn’t,” Nesta said, stepping toward her, “he will pay tenfold for any pain he causes her.”

Feyre nearly laughed as she watched Cassian nod enthusiastically to Nesta’s threat as he bounced Nyx on his hip. She could only hope that you knew how protected you were—that you had the entirety of the Night Court to support you should trouble ever make its way to you. But any laughter she had, any words she wanted to say, died in her throat as shadows flooded the River House.

Azriel.

Shit. Rhys had sent him off on a mission a few days prior. Azriel had been reluctant to go—one of the few times she was certain that Azriel would fight her mate to the death on an issue. But it was Feyre’s promise to keep you safe in the River House that gave him leave to go. She had forgotten that when she had the letter sent to Tamlin, when she bid you goodbye. You were gone now and, worse, you hadn’t said goodbye to him.

“Where. Is. She.”

Feyre turned, looking at Azriel’s towering form darkening the doorway. His wings were flared out behind him, beating furiously as his shadows continued to search the home for any sign of you.

“She has gone to Spring, with Tamlin.”

Azriel growled. His nostrils flared. The shadows began to swirl around Feyre. Rhys took a step in front of her, ready to block any attack sent her way. Would Azriel attack her? Why would he be so upset about not being able to say goodbye to you? She knew he pined after you, but she thought it was like Mor and Elain. Something one-sided. Had she missed something?

“It was her choice, brother,” Rhys said. “We are welcome to visit her whenever we so please. If you would like, we can go now, just so you may have a chance to talk to her.”

“If I go to Spring, I’m bringing her straight here. This is where she belongs. Not with that swine of a High Lord.”

“She has every right to choose to be with her mate—”

“No!” Azriel snapped. “I am her mate!”

It felt like time froze. Everyone stared at the Shadowsinger. Even Elain and Lucien came out from the kitchen, concern about his antics. Feyre blinked. No, that couldn’t be. Tamlin was your mate. You had felt the bond with him, and he you.

“Triads are a thing of legend,” Rhys said slowly. “They haven’t existed in millennia…Cauldron, no one has ever been sure they were ever truly real. You aren’t suggesting…”

“All I know is that the bond snapped when I found her crying after Nyx’s birth, so certain she’d lose her sister, brother-in-law, and nephew in one fell swoop that all three of you surviving overwhelmed her. It snapped as I held her, trying to reassure her that all was right. That no one would hurt her or her family.” Azriel took a step toward them, glowering. “You have sent my mate into a lion’s den. Lesser males have killed for lesser slights.”

“Azriel, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” Feyre tried.

But he was already gone—wings rustling against the wind as he flew away. To where, she couldn’t say for certain.

PART TWO

#tamlin imagine #tamlin x reader #tamlin x fem!reader #tamlin x female rader #tamlin x you #tamlin x y/n #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin fan fiction #tamlin fanfic #tamlin fan fic #tamlin fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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throneofsmut · 2 years ago

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Kinktober Day Thirty-One: Wing Play Azriel x Female Reader Author's Note : I'm going to turn this into a series !! 💙

When your older sister, Feyre was taken away by some fae beast in the night, you thought you’d never see her again. The rest of your family acted like nothing happened, all of sudden having money and status again. But you knew the truth, even went so far as to going to the wall a couple times.

The first time you went you found one of the ripples in the wall separating the humans and faeries. And pushed through, it felt… different. Once your body was completely through, you felt more alive, more like yourself.

Making the trek through the forest, hiding along the gates to the Manor of the Spring Court, you were just about to make a run for it. When suddenly a knife was pressed against your throat. Fae. You knew you had one chance at this, throwing your elbow behind you, into the fae’s middle with everything you had. The knife lightly slicing into your throat warm trickles of blood dripped from it, as you grabbed the knife lunging for the fae male.

Pressing it against his throat as the red haired male was gasping for breath - you winded him. Using your free arm to push him further into the ground. You leaned down, snarling, “Where is she ?”

He coughed finally regaining his breath, “Safe. She’s safe.”

Applying a bit more pressure against his throat, the knife made his skin redden, “Liar.”

“I’ll show you,” he panted softly.

You got off him but as soon as he stood you instantly had the blade pressed against his side. He led you to the side of the manor as he pointed up towards a window. You growled, sounding more fae than human, “Where is she ?”

A heart beat passed, “Look.” And there she was, your sister, Feyre.

She looked… happy.

You let out a shaky breath, fighting back tears, dropping the knife that was clutched in your hand. The red haired male turned to you, brows furrowed, “You love her.” It was more a statement than a question.

“Of course I do, she’s my sister. She’s one half of me.” He gave you a gentle smile before walking you back towards the wall.

Once you made it back to the wall, he stopped you, grabbing your arm. “I’m Lucien.” You gave him a small nod, his voice stopped you again, “So which sister are you ?”

“Y/n.”

He chuckled, “Y/n. That’s why you were able to disarm me. Feyre told me that while she hunted for the family, you fought in the pits for money.” Giving him another small nod, turning back towards the wall. “Listen, I can meet you at the wall every couple of weeks. If you want to check on her.” He offered.

Looking over your shoulder, your lips set in a wicked smirk, “I was going to keep checking on her regardless.”

His lips curved up into a smirk too before nodding his head towards the wall, “See you soon.”

Then you were gone.

So every 2 weeks for months you checked on feyre without her knowing. Lucien beside you as you both were perched in a tree, through the months you both slowly started becoming friends. At first he’d tell you how she was doing but then you’d both start asking each other questions. You’d never hated faeries, even though your family did. To you it was simple, they’d never done anything to you personally, so you didn’t hate them. Lucien laughed at that and told you he didn’t hate humans, this time making you laugh.

You were just about to head out to make your journey to the Spring court when Feyre showed up. Then almost as soon as she’d gotten back, she left.

A couple months later you went back and Lucien was already there waiting for you. “She’s not here.” He whispered.

“What ?”

He sighed, “She left.”

You felt your heart racing, Lucien could probably hear it. “I have to find her.”

Lucien grabbed your arm before you made it back through the wall, “You may not like what you find.” Then he let you go.

You practically sprinted the entire way home resting as little as possible. Ripping the door to your family’s estate and then slamming it shut, making your way to your bedroom. Sleep found you quickly that night, exhausted from your trek to the Spring Court and back home.

You slept in, almost sleeping through the whole day until you were woken up by voices. They were arguing and it sounded like they were coming from the dining room. Still in your night slip, you made your way down stairs - Feyre, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel had all been alerted to the sound of a door closing - walking into the dining room, you froze.

She was here.

Feyre was here but she was different. Now she was slightly taller than you only, pointed ears poking through her hair and she was beautiful. She was beautiful before but now… and she didn’t come alone. Three fae males were with her. One had eyes so blue they were violet and the others had large bat-like wings. They all stood, assessing you, not sure if they should be preparing for a fight.

“Feyre…” I whispered.

“You’re here.” She breathed.

That’s all it took for you to throw yourself into her arms. The both of you cried as you held each other. Throat tight as you whispered, “I didn’t know if you were dead or not.”

She let out a shaky breath as she hugged you tighter, “I was.”

Holding each other for a couple moments longer, before Nesta was clearing her throat and the both of you separated. Feyre took a step back, not letting go of your hand as she snarled at Nesta, “You said she wasn’t here.” Nesta merely shrugged in response. Feyre glared at her before turning to introduce you to the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. He bowed at the waist in greeting. Then she moved to the General of his Armies, Cassian. And finally to the most beautiful male you’d ever seen, his Spymaster, Azriel.

They surprisingly bowed at the waist in greeting as well, you bowed your head in return. A genuine smile on your lips as you acknowledged them, “Hello, pleasure to meet you. All you.” Rhysand was about to speak when Nesta cut him off, “Go change into something more appropriate.”

You rolled your eyes before turning to look at her, “I'm pretty sure it’s not the first time they’ve seen a female in night slip… or a pair of tits for that matter.” Turning back to face the four of them, you could see they were all fighting to not smirk at your antics.

Doing a mock curtsy directed a Nesta, “I’ll be back. Continue having dinner, don’t stop on my account.” Heading back upstairs, you still felt Nesta’s burning gaze on you, “Now, Nes !” You yelled at her over your shoulder just to piss her off even more.

You came back down once everyone was seated and noticed Cassian and Azriel kept shifting trying to get comfortable in chairs not meant to accommodate wings. Their eyes landed on you as you neared before stopping in the middle of the room, turning back on your heel. Yelling over your shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

Hauling two stools back into the dining room, then the male named Azriel was suddenly at your side, taking them out of your hands. Cassian met him halfway, to grab one, before finally sitting comfortably without the backs of the chairs bothering their wings. They gave you warm smiles before thanking you, Rhysand saying thank you as well. You shrugged, “It’s nothing.”

Rhys shook his head, “Not to us. Thank you, for your kindness.”

Dinner was giving you a headache because Nesta and Feyre were arguing. You were picking at the skin around your thumbs when a large scarred hand settled over them, Azriel’s. Who was seated next to you. Turning to look at him, he didn’t look away from the argument but he gave your hands three reassuring squeezes. A silent sign that he saw you.

Then Cassian was trying to get a reaction out of Nesta, you let out small huff and without thinking you moved one of your hands, settling atop Azriel’s. Soft smooth fingers roaming over the scarred skin, tracing them. You felt him stiffen beneath your touch before relaxing again. You whispered almost inaudibly, “Beautiful.” Eyes never leaving his hands.

He looked at you and Rhys saw something flicker in his gaze but it was gone as soon as it came.

When dinner was over, Feyre and Rhys told your sisters and you why they’d really come.

War.

A war was coming and our village would likely get the brunt of it. They also told us that they wanted to meet with the six human queens, using the estate as a neutral meeting place. We all stayed up late into the night as they drafted up a letter to set the meeting. Everyone made their way upstairs but then Feyre followed you into your room. That’s when she told you everything. Finally getting up to make her way towards the door when a shadow slithered in. She laughed softly, “I wonder why it’s here.”

Tilting your head as it floated up in front of you , almost like it was taking you in, “Should we ask ?”

“If you want.”

“Uhh. . . Go get, Azriel. Please.” You said to the shadow.

Then it slithered away, going to get its master hopefully. Feyre and you waited. Then a couple moments later soft knocks sounded at your door.

You rushed to open it seeing if he had actually come.

“You came.” Something like amusement glittering in your eyes.

He gave you a shy small, “You called.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you but-“ Feyre cut you off. “Did you send the shadow in here ?”

Azriel cleared his throat, “No. They like you" - his eyes hadn’t left yours - "they wanted to see you again. I told them they might scare you so I told them to leave you alone but I guess they didn’t listen.”

Shaking your head, eyes still on his, “They don’t scare me.” He gave you a small nod, understanding what your words meant - he doesn’t scare you.

Then Feyre was walking past you, her hand on Azriel’s arm, “Come on, Let’s let her rest. The mother knows we need it too.”

The next morning after breakfast Rhys offered us that if we wanted we could go back to the Night Court with them if we didn’t feel safe on this side of the wall. We would be protected by him and his inner circle there. The whole time Rhys voiced his offer, Feyre's eyes were pleading you to come, to go “home” with her. Nesta and Elain said no, well Nesta said no for the both of them. Feyre’s voice was quiet, “Y/n ?”

You sighed heavily, “I can’t leave them.” She knew who you were talking about, and nodded solemnly.

They were about to leave when Rhys spoke again, “A squad of soldiers will be patrolling the area, you won’t even know they’re here but they will be. And if one of you" - he looked at you - "or all you change your mind a soldier will be in the drawing room at noon and midnight every day. He will send word back to me and you will be taken back to the Night Court.”

Nesta and Elain gave him a curt nod.

You bowed your head at him, “Thank you.”

He gave you a warm smile then bowed at the waist.

You walked them out, Feyre hugged you, breathing you in. Almost like she was trying to commit you to memory in case anything happened. Your eyes met with Azriel’s as you were hugging her, “Don’t worry. I feel sure we’ll see each other again.” Feyre hugged you tighter but Azriel nodded, he understood that your words were just as much for him as they were for Feyre. And just like that they were gone.

A couple weeks went by and the Queens had sent word that they would agree to meet. And on the day they had agreed, Lucien had sent you a letter that he wanted to speak with you on that same day. So you went. He asked about Feyre and her whereabouts, you didn’t tell him anything. Yes, you were friends but Feyre was your sister. Your loyalty was to her.

Time went by and everyday you thought about telling the Night Court soldier stationed in your home to tell Rhys that you wanted to go. But the thought of leaving Nesta and Elain alone, you couldn’t, you knew how to fight. They didn’t. So you stayed.

More time had passed and the Queens ended up siding with Hybern for their own personal gain. Your sisters and you caught in the middle of it. The three of you were dragged into a room in the King of Hybern’s castle by four of the Queens guards. You stood in front of your sisters protectively, they were still wearing their nightgowns, whereas yours was just in shreds now from you fighting back. Not to mention the bruises and cuts all over your face and body and the blood soaking your night slip.

You had managed to kill eleven of their guards when they appeared in your home and surprisingly six Hybern soldiers. Feyre, Rhys, Mor and Cassian all looked horrified as they took in the youngest sister’s appearance. Their horror was replaced by shock as Azriel let out a growl - sounding more animal than fae - as he saw her. You still hadn’t noticed their presence, your senses were clouded by pure unyielding rage.

Even though you were gagged and bound - they had somewhat ripped from all your fighting - you took a fighting stance as best you could. Your body was going on pure adrenaline. Numb to everything around you, you didn’t hear Elain’s quiet sobs that were muffled by the gag in her mouth or notice Nesta’s disheveled appearance as she panted from fighting back as best she could. Then without even thinking, you scrambled trying to cover Elain and Nesta’s bodies with your own, as the king of Hyberns power slammed into everyone. Power, white and unending. They were shrieking as you let out a cry of pain, his power affecting you.

Feyre was on the ground, Rhys was slammed to his knees along with Mor. Cassian and Azriel were on the ground. Cassian’s wings were shredded apart as he flared them protecting Azriel from the king’s powers. And Azriel was sprawled in a puddle of his own blood, an ash bolt through his chest. Elain let out a sob to warn Feyre of Tamlin’s approach. Mor tried to make a move for the King of Hybern, but Azriel’s cry of pain stopped her. The sound of him in pain finally cleared your senses. Your eyes landed on his and he attempted to move to you, letting out another cry of pain. No doubt the King's doing.

“Stop.” Your voice cold. The king only laughed, stalking towards you.

“Don’t touch her.” Azriel, Rhys, Lucien and Tamlin all growled.

He only laughed again as he ordered one his guards to take you to the cauldron. “Put the beautiful sister in first.” The second the guard was behind you, you slammed the back of your head into his nose and was ready to do more when Azriel let out another cry of pain, and you froze.

The king tsked at you, “Don’t. Don’t do that. Unless you want him dead.”

The rage in your eyes as you glared at him could devour worlds. One side of your mouth curling up into a cruel smile, as you said with lethal softness, “I’m gonna kill you. Not today, not tomorrow, but I’m gonna kill you. All of you.” He beheld the rage in your eyes and understood your words, the weight of them. They weren’t a threat they were a promise. And he faltered back a step, tearing his gaze from yours, before ordering the guard again, to put you in the cauldron. You gave him a wicked smirk that only the devil could replicate, “What’s wrong… scared ?”

The guard holding you slapped you, your head snapped to the side, spitting blood on the King of Hybern’s Face. Teeth covered in blood, giving him a feral smile as you were shoved closer to the cauldron. Then you heard Lucien’s voice, “Y/n. I’m so sorry.”

Then, Tamlin’s, “I am so sorry for everything.” The High Lord of Springs words filled you with more rage.

He’s sorry ? Oh, he’s sorry. He’s sorry. He’s Sorry. HE’S SORRY. HE’S SORRY.

Those were your last thoughts as your head was shoved under the water. The dark black waters of the Cauldron were so cold, that it burned hotter than any fire. It was all consuming just like your rage. You had always been quick to anger - to rage. It was easier to just turn everything you felt into rage. So this time was no different, finally letting it pour out of you in waves.

You had always been forced to give but this time you were going to take.

You couldn’t tell if it had only been seconds or hours since you’d been submerged under. Unknowingly to you, everyone was holding their breath at what they saw. The black cauldron was now glowing red, the dark calm waters now boiling white waters, bubbling over and smoking at the top. It had been too long, you had to be dead - no one could survive this - then both of your hands broke through the water.

Grasping the side of the glowing cauldron, then your head broke through the waters surface. Sucking in a harsh breath as you heard gasps throughout the room.

Blazing brighter than any star, glowing, fire made flesh. The others couldn’t stand to look at you - you burned so bright - as you hauled yourself out of the cauldron. So lost in a primal rage that you hadn’t even noticed your pointed ears and elongated limbs. The cauldron made you High Fae.

Standing to your full height everyone in the room held their breaths, they knew you were different. Felt it. As soon your hands broke through the surface they’d felt it. Your eyes were glowing as you scanned the entire room, no one moved. The look on your face was all rage and power, an avenging goddess. Death Incarnate.

Hearing a noise from your right, you snapped your head in that direction, an injured winged fae male - Azriel - was trying to make his way to you. Trying and failing. He was stopped by a blonde fae female, putting a hand on his chest. Moving it as he growled, “She’s my mate.” You didn’t know why but you just knew you had to get him.

You got as close to him as you could and he seemed to settle a bit. Then, Elain was dragged into the cauldron, scared and crying. It tipped itself on its side and Elain came out soaking wet but now fae. Lucien at her side moments later wrapped his coat around her. Soon after Nesta was thrown in, kicking and screaming. Cassian stirred but quickly succumbed to the pain of his shredded wings. The cauldron tipping itself on its side once more as Nesta came out. All three of you were made different. But when you came out it was as if the world held its breath.

In the end Rhys winnowed Cassian, Azriel and you in the middle of a warm home. Helping to lower Azriel onto one of the sofas, you were going to help Rhys put Cassian on the other but Azriel didn’t let go of your hand. And his cousin, Mor, followed shortly after with Nesta and Elain. While Feyre had been left with Tamlin and Lucien. Elain was still sobbing and Nesta was screaming. You stayed quiet, assessing as Mor and Rhys winnowed healers into the home.

They all crowded around Cassian and Azriel as they start to heal the general’s wings and the wound on Azriel’s chest. Without noticing, your free hand balled into a fist at your side and you had started to glow. A fae female approached you, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder, “You don’t need to see this. Come with us.” Turning to look at her, she had a soft look on her face. “My name is Cerridwen. My sister and I will get you cleaned up.” Nodding over her shoulder as you see her twin sister trying to usher your two sisters up the stairs. Rhys gives you a reassuring nod and you nod at Cerridwen once. Then bend down to play a kiss on Azriel’s lips - you don’t know why you did it - before letting her lead the way, too tired to fight.

The only people you saw for two weeks were the twins and Rhys. Sometimes your sisters. Mostly keeping to yourself because you knew what magic lay beneath your skin, in your veins. You didn’t want to scare anyone, more than you scared yourself. They didn’t know how it felt, how much you struggled to keep it buried. So you’d let it out in little ways, and that was just the flames.

While you were alone, you often stared at yourself in the mirror. It was strange being high fae, it felt familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. The unnatural elongated features and limbs. Pointed ears and smooth skin. You weren’t just devastatingly beautiful. You were otherworldly and vaguely threatening.

You’d also been having trouble sleeping, Azriel’s shadows would often slither under the door and caress your face, trying and failing to help you fall asleep. But, every time you did sleep you would have a nightmare. It was always the same two. Either, you in the cauldron or Azriel dying. A sharp tug in your chest would always wake you up from them and you’d hear soft footsteps outside your door as you gasped for breath.

Then as soon as you’d catch your breath, they’d leave.

You hadn’t slept two nights in a row, the shadows kept trying to drag you into bed, but you were stubborn. Instead preferring to let flames dance along your fingertips, twining around your now long slender fingers. Batting away the shadows every time they’d grab ahold of your wrist, trying to drag you into your room from the balcony. Then they’d swat you back, on the back of your hand like a child being scolded. On the third night when they tried again and you batted them away, they didn’t do it back. Simply slithering away under the door.

Moments later you heard footsteps getting closer then the door softly clicking open.

You knew who it was, you felt him all the way from the door, even though you were outside. Scenting him as soon as he stepped out onto the balcony.

Azriel.

“The shadows tell me you haven’t been sleeping. Why ?” He said as a way of greeting.

You shrugged, not bothering to look up, “I don’t know.” You mumbled.

“You’re safe now, I promise. Your sisters are too.”

“I’m so tired, Az.” Your voice came out shakier than you expected.

So lost in the flames, that you didn’t realize he was right next to you until he was hauling you into his arms, carrying you back to bed.

Laying on your side, peering up at him, you whispered. “Can you sleep in here tonight ?”

He only stared at you, hazel eyes boring into your as his throat bobbed. “Please.” He nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off his boots and leathers. Tapping on his shoulder, he turned to look at you.“Can I ask you for one more favor ? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He nodded his head again, “Can we do skin to skin ? You don’t have to take off your briefs, I’ll leave my panties on, but I just want to feel you. Know that your're there.”

Azriel cleared his throat, “If that’s what you want.” You nodded your head and he did too in response.

Once he was only in his briefs he laid down on your bed, you sat up on your knees facing him, pulling your night slip over your head. He groaned softly, “You’re gonna be the death of me.” You felt your face heat up as you giggled softly, murmuring an apology as you laid on his chest. His large scarred hand moved to rub your back soothingly, helping you fall asleep. Mumbling a thank you as a dreamless sleep claimed you that night.

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head against the glare of the morning sun. He always had his curtains drawn and blinds closed so the light wouldn’t wake him when he did manage to sleep in. Even then he never slept in past dawn but it had to be late morning now if the sun was this bright. He was about to move to draw the curtains, freezing when he felt something weighing down on his chest. Knowing it wasn’t anything dangerous because his shadows would’ve told him otherwise, he blinked slowly against the sunlight and saw you.

There, on his chest lay his mate's head with her hair covering part of her face. Your arm was draped over his middle and your leg over his hips, his hand still on the small of your back. Now he knew why he’d slept in for the first time in a long long time, he had finally found his peace… you.

You looked so soft like this, beautiful. Azriel always thought you were beautiful but now that you were on his chest he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Couldn’t resist the urge to use his free hand to push your hair away from your face and trace a scarred finger over your soft features. A small smile graced his lips. You hummed, brows furrowing at the feeling of someone touching you. Azriel only moved his hand to continue playing with your hair.

Then you shifted a bit, showing him more of your face before giving him a sleepy smile as you mumbled, voice still thick with sleep, “Good morning.”

Azriel chuckled softly, “Yeah. It is.”

“How long have you been up ?” You asked, moving your head to lay on his bicep.

“A while.” Azriel breathed.

“Why didn’t you wake me up ? I would’ve moved, if you had something to do.”

“You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t.”

Lips curving up into a teasing smile, “So you mean to tell me, the infamous shadowsinger was scared to wake me up ?”

He laughed at that, “Maybe.”

You moved to sit up, the sunlight streaming in behind you making a golden halo around you. Opening your eyes, stretching your arms out, letting out a soft groan. Azriel gasped softly and you froze, “What ?”

“Your eyes, they- they’re glowing and your hands.” He stuttered as he sat up.

Squeezing your eyes shut, taking a deep breath as you willed your powers back into you. Moving further back on the bed - away from him - your voice quiet, “Sorry I- I didn’t meant to scare you.”

He shook his head, reaching for you, this time you didn’t move, not as his hands cradled your face. “Scary? My gods, you’re divine.” He whispered.

Putting your hands atop his, pulling them off your face, whispering, “What if I hurt you ?”

“You could never hurt me, I’d only feel you.”

Tears lined your eyes, bottom lip quivering, “You don’t know that. I can’t control it yet. I could burn you.”

“I’d let you, I don’t want to control your fire. I need to be near it.” He rasped out.

Your eyes flickered between his, the confession in them. He would. He would let you burn him as long as you were touching him. Azriel wanted to stay away longer, let you adjust but you unknowingly called out to him through the bond. He’d come as close to being outside your door, then turn back, afraid he’d ruin it and scare you. Then you and him would end up like Lucien and Elain. “You should go. I don’t want to hurt you.” You mumbled, looking away, not wanting to see the pain in his eyes. Or him the pain in yours.

“From the moment I met you, all those months ago, not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought of you. And now that I’m with you again. . . I’m in agony. The closer I get it to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you- I can’t breathe. I’m haunted by the kiss that you should’ve never have given me. My heart is beating. . . hoping, that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, Tormenting me. . . What can I do ? –I will do anything that you ask. If you are suffering as much as I am, please, tell me.”

“Kiss me.” You breathed.

His eyes scanned your face, looking for any hesitation, when he found none his lips met yours with an urgent, bruising impact. A desperation that you returned, tracing your tongue over the seam of his lip. You weren’t sure he was breathing. And just to see what he’d do, smirking against his plush lips, you palmed him through his briefs.

He pulled back, throwing his head back in a curse.

You laughed quietly, kissing the scar on his chest from the ash bolt, as he panted. Asking in between the kisses that you were littering down his torso, “Can you keep going ?”

“Your blood healed me,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

You chuckled softly, “So that’s what Rhys wanted it for.” When you laid your palm flat on him again, you asked, “So this is okay ?”

Azriel was still panting, his breathing jagged, “Don’t stop.”

“Maybe. If you ask nicely.”

“Please, Fireheart.” The nickname made your heart flutter. Kissing him once more, teeth tugging on his bottom lip before pulling down his briefs. Mouth going dry at the sight of him, bare for you.

He was all for you.

Then his hands were in hair, his lips smashing into yours. Large scarred hands roaming your body, trying to memorize all the dips and curves of it. Roughly gripping the swell of your ass, making your chest rise up, sensitive peaked nipples rubbing against him. Azriel did it again, swallowing the moan trying to escape your soft lips.

You move your hand down between your bodies, stroking him, earning a grunt out of him. Then he flipped you, laying you flat against the unmade bed. Pulling back, chests heaving as he rips your panties off your body. Groaning at the sight of your glistening slick covered cunt. He fights to tear his eyes away when he hears a whimper leave your lips. Finding his shadows tugging and swirling around your nipples, while your head is thrown back and your eyes screwed shut.

His scarred thumb moving lightly over your clit makes you look at him through half lidded, lust filled eyes. Azriel’s eyes darken, moving to climb over you, caging you in before applying more pressure to your clit. You whine, “Az, Please.”

“What do you need, Fireheart ?” He says rubbing your clit faster.

Your back bows, “You. I need you inside me, Az”

Azriel gives you a wicked smirk as his eyes glint, “Maybe. If you ask nicely.” He taunts, using your words against you.

“Please.” You cry out.

He chuckles darkly, before praising you, “Good girl.”

Then you feel the head of his cock rubbing between your soaked folds. Azriel looks like he’s barely holding himself back, so you give him a soft nod and then he’s pushing into you. The stretch makes your eyes screw shut in pain and pleasure, crying out as he buries himself in your cunt. Rubbing the side of your thigh as he coos praises at you.

When he’s finally all the way into the hilt, breathing heavily, “Look at me.” He commands. As soon as your eyes meet his, your breath hitches. Something in your chest snapped. You could feel it, almost like a glowing thread inside you. Grasping onto it, you gave it tug and his jaw clenched.

Brows furrowing as you asked “What is that ?”

“The mating bond.” He answered.

You gave the bond another hard tug and he clenched his jaw again, “You’re my mate ?”

“I’m yours and you’re mine.” He claimed, tugging back.

Giving him a feral smirk, possessiveness lacing your voice. “You’re mine.”

Azriel chuckles darkly, before leaning back down and putting his arms under your back to hold on to your shoulders. Then he’s pulling slowly out before slamming back in. Grunting lowly, “Fuck you’re tight-” his words making you moan loudly, “-my perfect little mate.” The sound only urged him to go faster, harder - to claim. All you could hear was your whimpers and strangled screams, his low groans and breathy moans, as he snapped his hips at a merciless pace.

The fire in your tummy spreads, as his cock hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again. His name on your lips was a prayer and he was your god as writhed beneath him. Completely and utterly at his mercy. “Azriel - Azriel - Azriel !” Hips bucking, chasing a high only he could give you, crying out his name as you were right on the edge.

Your body felt like it was on fire, biting his shoulder as your release barreled through you. His pace slowed but he didn’t stop as you fell apart. Noticing the sheets gripped in your hands were now turning to ash. He didn’t care, all that mattered was you and your pleasure. He praised you, ��Let go, Fireheart. That’s it, just like that. Good girl.”

Still out of breath as you told him, “I want to get on top.” His pupils flared, then he flipped the both of you, so you were on top. Legs still shaking as you braced your hands on his tattooed chest, lifting almost all the way off before sliding back down. You felt so full in this new position. His hands gripping your hips, helping bounce on him. The sound of your ass smacking his thighs had him throwing his head back and rolling his eyes. Then he looked at you as you let out a noise you hadn’t made before.

Taking your hands off his chest, holding onto his forearms with your head thrown back as your plush lips parted. Azriel’s name is a desperate plea on your lips as your tits bounce wildly in front of him. His shadows, moving to grope them and circle your clit. He couldn’t take it, he needed to feel you against him.

Pulling you to his chest as he rutted into, you barely had enough time to catch yourself, your hands flat on the bed. Eyes squeezing shut as you got lost in the pleasure he was providing. Without realizing your nail grazed his wing - that was currently splayed beneath him - and he whimpered. Azriel actually whimpered. You froze, thinking you’d hurt him but he just continued fucking you.

So you traced a single finger along the bony structure closer to the base of his wings, he tensed slightly before he whimpered again. “Am I hurting you ?”

“Only if you stop.” He grunted.

You did it again, then moved closer to the base of his wing. Your nail lightly scraping over the smaller ridges that were there. The walls of your cunt fluttering around him as his cock twitched inside of you in response to your touch. A soft whimper falling from his lips before he cursed as you continued exploring his wings.

Azriel hips stuttered, his voice a desperate breathy hiss, “T- There ! Right there.” As you applied more pressure to one of the small ridges. “Please !” He begged, tipping his head back, hazel eyes screwed shut as he shivered in pleasure. “Does that feel good, baby ?” You whispered in his ear, voice sounding like pure sin.

“Mhmm… Fuck.” He groaned.

Placing a kiss on his neck, right below his ear, “Good boy.” You praise.

He rolled his hips against yours, the pace frenzied and erratic. Adding a little more pressure to his wing and his hips stuttered, shadows moving between the two of you, pinching your nipples and rubbing your clit.

His hands dig into your hips, hard enough to bruise as you bite his shoulder again. Azriel bucked into you a few more times, he gave one last deep thrust as he spilled into you, your name on his lips as he fell apart.

Your walls spasming and contracting, milking every drop of his seed as the both of you fell over the edge together. His shadows finally stop their assault on your overly sensitive nipples and clit, moving to push his and your hair away from your faces. Then Azriel shifts you a little, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead.

His lips still against your forehead as he pants softly, “I love you, Fireheart.”

He moves to lean his forehead against yours and then you breathe, “I love you.”

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel smut #azriel x reader #shadowsinger #shadowsinger fanfic #shadowsinger smut #shadowsinger x reader #spymaster #spymaster fanfic #spymaster smut #spymaster x reader

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azrielsdove · 8 months ago

Text

Petals and Pain: Tamlin x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Suggestive, Longgggg

The halls were dark, quiet, and cold. A stark contrast to the last time you stepped foot in this manor. You crept through the ruins, remembering how the grand place had looked before. It had been fifty-odd years since you last came here, since you last saw your oldest friend.

Everything had changed since then.

You had left Prythian on what was supposed to be a month trip to the other territories. You were to go both as a diplomat and as a tourist. Tamlin had wanted to try to better the Court with what you learned there, a task you so willingly took. You had bid him farewell and set off, excited to see what the world had to offer.

You didn’t know it would be the last time you saw him.

He sent a letter the moment Amarantha showed her evil hand, bidding you stay put. Every instinct in you screamed to run home, but you knew you could be of more help if you stayed away. Perhaps you could seek out assistance from one of the territories.

Your heart ached for the Spring Court all those years. Your travels brought you beauty, sure, yet it all paled in comparison to your home. You longed for the manor, its large windows and warm sunshine. You wished to walk through the gardens, so full of magic and peace. Above it all you missed Tamlin. The two of you had met long ago, when you were both not more than babes. Your parents were high up in the Court, trusted advisors to the High Lord. Often you were brought along as their pride and joy, their perfect little pawn. Talks of a betrothal to you and one of the High Lords sons began as you grew, your parents vying for the eldest. They knew he had the most chance of being the next High Lord. The goal was to get you in the highest position of power possible.

Your friendship with Tamlin grew as you did. He was pushed to the side more often than not, the youngest brother with no hope of ever being High Lord. Your parents were unhappy that he was the one you chose to befriend, but they couldn’t keep you from seeing him. Not without potentially upsetting his father. No, that wouldn’t do for their plan.

Until the slaughter of the entire family occurred. Your parents were unlucky enough to have been there at the time of the attack, murdered alongside Tamlins. Too quickly the manor went from a busy, full, lively place to just the two of you. Tamlin begged you to stay after that, insisting that he didn’t want to be alone. You couldn’t deny that you felt the same and gladly moved into the manor. He appointed you emissary, setting you as the first member of his court. Not long after Lucien showed up and turned your duo into a rather happy trio. You and Lucien worked together to keep the Spring Court in good favor with the other Courts.

You wondered where Lucien was now. What exactly had happened here, besides what you got out of Tamlins last broken letter. You continued further into the manor, peering into each room as you passed. There was no sign of life anywhere. You weren’t even sure if Tamlin was still here. You stuck a hand in your pocket, finger running over the edge of the letter that brought you here.

Spring has fallen.

It is all my fault.

The threat has gone.

Short, and not nearly enough information. You had raced back to Prythian as quickly as you could, trying to imagine what had happened.

Though nothing prepared you for this.

“Tamlin?” You called out softly, unsure if danger lurked nearby. A chill flew through the air, sending shivers down your back. A noise from a few rooms down the hall startled you, eyes darting towards it. You moved hesitantly towards the door, noting the dim light showing from underneath it. Slowly you pushed it open, once again calling out his name. You looked into the room, heart sinking at the sight.

You had found Tamlin.

From where he sat you could see his hair was matted, covered in mud and leaves. His once smart attire was torn and dirtied, hanging loosely off his much too thin frame. You could see his skin was pale, scratches covering most of it. “Tam?” You asked, voice shaky. He turned slowly to you and your hand flew to cover your mouth. His eyes were dark, sunk deep into his head. He looked as close to death as you could get while still being alive. “Oh Tam.” You dropped to your knees in front of him, gently wrapping your hands around his. You stared deep into those haunted eyes, heart breaking. “Let me help you.”

He gave no response, just continued to stare at you in that dead sort of way. You began to doubt there was anything of your friend left. You quickly busied yourself with all the healing remedies you brought from your travels. You weren’t certain what sort of state Tamlin or the Spring Court would be in when you arrived, so you brought as many fit into your bags. A good thing too, for several of these were desperately needed. You gently poured a few different vials into his mouth, watching carefully to make sure they took. You wanted to heal his body and mind as much as you could, in hopes that he could explain what had all happened. You administered one final draught for the night before gently leading your friend to lay in front of the damp fireplace. “Sleep should kick in soon, will you lay here for me?” You asked, laying down the cloak you wore as a sort of sad attempt at a bed. Tamlin laid on it with no comment, the horrid blank stare still on his face. You waited until he was asleep to go scrounge around for some wood, leading to a rather pitiful fire in the great stone fireplace. At least it was better than nothing.

You settled down in the least damaged chair you could find, watching Tamlin. Your mind was racing with questions. You were completely lost on how your once witty and charming friend had been reduced to this husk of a male. And where was Lucien? You were struck with a chilling thought, one that you didn’t wish to dwell on. You shook your head, shooing it away. Lucien had to be alive, something just must have come up. There was a perfectly logical reason for why he wasn’t here, and why the Spring Court lay in ruin. You just had to wait for Tamlin to wake and you could get some answers.

***

It was days before the High Lords eyes opened once more. You spent your time forcing water and various medicinal mixtures down his throat, exploring what was left of the manor when you felt up to it. Your heart ached at seeing what was once your beautiful home in such disrepair. It shattered completely when you made your way to your old rooms and found that they were the only place untouched. Dusty, yes, but otherwise just the same as you had left them. You had quickly brought Tamlin to them after your discovery, setting him up in your grand four poster bed. A reminder of a life that feels so long ago now.

It was soon after that Tamlin came to. He still looked close to death, but there was a minuscule brightness to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He murmured your name, a hand reaching out for yours. You grasped it tightly, tears pricking at the back of yours eyes. “Tam,” you whispered, “what happened?”

He gave a sad smile, shaking his head. “It was all my fault, truly. Everyone left. I let them all down. I allowed war to come to these lands, I allowed terrible things to happen.” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “All in the name of love. Love. What do I even know of it?”

You were confused, and a tad bit hurt at the mention of this so-called love. “Tell me from the beginning.”

And so he did.

He told you of what Amarantha had done, how she had tricked the Courts. How she vied for his hand and when he denied her she cursed all of Spring. He told you how she cut out Lucien’s eye, wincing as he did. He talked about the rules of his curse, how the only way out was to get a mortal to fall for him.

He spoke of Feyre, the love he had mentioned before. You could feel the pain in his voice as he did, as he explained how he tried to save her. “I was ready to sacrifice my entire court, just so she would be safe. A fool I was. A selfish, horrid fool.” He told you how they were all taken Under the Mountain, how Feyre came to try to save him. What she suffered in the months down there. How he didn’t know what to do, besides send Lucien to try to help her.

He talked about Rhysand, who you remembered all too well. He explained how the other High Lord assisted Feyre Under the Mountain, how Tamlin had thought it all a nasty trick. His voice broke as he recalled Amarantha killing her, but Rhysand and the other High Lords worked together to bring her back.

You had no words, shocked at the amount of respect they all had for this girl. Truly, you couldn’t help but be in awe of her yourself.

Tamlin continued, telling you how they were supposed to wed. How Rhysand had crashed the wedding, whisking Feyre away. He told you how Lucien and him thought Rhysand was nothing but evil, mind controlling Feyre to hate them. “Of course, she had every right to hate me. I didn’t know how to treat her after Under the Mountain. I allowed her suffering.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly, urging him to continue.

On he went, explaining that Rhysand and the Night Court were never truly evil, that there is a goodness there. He spoke of the war with Hybern, of what he had done to Feyres sisters. He told you how Feyre had turned the court against him, but it was his own actions that lead them to believe her.

He talked about Lucien, how he had fled with Feyre in the end. “I couldn’t even keep one of my oldest friends. I have done irreparable damage to everyone I cared about. It is good you were away, otherwise you would’ve been hurt too.” His gaze was faraway, eyes shining with untold pain.

You sat in silence for long moments, processing everything he had told you. Lucien had left him. That was no small fact, that what Tamlin had done was bad to have driven him away. Yet as look at the male in front of you, you struggle to see that he is truly evil.

“I believe your heart was in the right place, however your actions were a bit extreme,” you said slowly, careful with your words.

Tamlin laughed. “Just a bit?” You looked up at him, his eyes shining bright as he smiled at you. For just a moment you could see the old him in his face, the strong High Lord you once knew.

“Okay, perhaps a lot. I do not see why that should mean you must live like this now. It is not too late to make amends to your Court, and to Lucien. I am home now, Tam. Let me help rebuild our home.” And you, you thought, looking over his sickly state once more.

He nodded, agreeing. “Yes, yes. You always know what to do. For now, I will rest. I tire too easily these days.” His eyes were closed before he finished speaking, exhaustion taking over once more.

You sat in the quiet room for a while longer, still holding his hand. Your questions were answered, but in their place were a million more. For the first time you began to doubt if the Spring Court and its High Lord were truly fixable.

***

You spent the following days cleaning up what damage you could from the manor while Tamlin regained his strength. You took notice of how most of the destruction seemed caused by a rather large animal, piecing together what must have happened. What sort of a state had he been in to destroy his home in such a way? You had paused your questioning for now, focusing on his healing first. You did find where Lucien now resides and sent him a letter as quick as you could. You weren’t entirely sure what had all happened, but you hoped he would return once more. If not for Tamlin, then for you.

You were busy cleaning in the grand entry when a rather cold chuckle came from behind you. You turned quickly, holding your mop out like a weapon.

“Oh relax, it is only me,” a silky voice said, purple eyes glittering. You frowned.

“Rhysand.”

He placed his hand dramatically over his heart at your cool tone, feigning being stabbed. “Ouch. How long has it been since we last spoke, then? Welcome back to this side of the world. Noticed I didn’t see you in the war.”

You rolled your eyes, setting your mop down. “There could never be enough time in between our meetings. I wasn’t a part of the war, as I was unaware it was happening. The last I heard was the day Amarantha played her nasty trick, and I was told to remain away.”

“Lucky you. Away on your travels, galavanting around while the rest of us suffered.” Rhysand scowled at you, eyes narrowed. “You seem not any worse off for it.”

You crossed your arms tightly in front of you, anger flooding your body. “I did only as my High Lord commanded.”

Rhysand scoffed. “Some High Lord he is. Do you not see the state of your beloved Court? Do you truly believe an innocent male allowed ruin to befall your home like this?”

You took a step closer, ever defensive of your old friend and home. “What I have found is a hurting male, trapped all alone in a nightmare of his own creation. I have heard his regrets and his helplessness. I came back to find my home a dark shadow of itself, my High Lord, my friend, not more than a shell of who he was.” You looked Rhysand up and down. “I have found you, the male who won it all. You have your mate, Rhysand. You have your grand Court, your faithful family. I’ve heard you even have a perfect little son. And yet here you stand, coming to do what, may I ask? Taunt Tamlin? Kick him some more while he’s down?” Your fists clenched, anger tight in your chest. “I admit I do not know all that has transpired in my absence, but I know enough to say what you’re doing is wrong. I do not argue that he has hurt you, has hurt your mate, but to what end must he suffer? Will you not be happy until his heart has ceased beating? What more can he give you?”

Rhysand stood as still as death, eyes studying you carefully. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “You show a devotion I do not often see. If you ever come to understand there’s nothing for you here, i’d be pleased to see you in Night Court black. As I said so many years ago, Tamlin will never give you what you want.” He was gone in a dramatic swirl of darkness, nothing but a grandiose show of power. You frowned deeper, ever unsettled by the High Lord. He had always been condescending to you, deciding that you were worth hating just for being close to Tamlin.

As I said so many years ago, Tamlin will never give you what you want. You scoffed as the words played again in your head, picking your mop back up. Rhysand had convinced himself long ago that you only stayed close to Tamlin in hopes of being his bride. You’d laughed in his face the first time he said this, completely taken aback by such an accusation. You can admit a part of you would not have been unhappy with such an arrangement, but you had your position in Court on your own. Rhysand never saw you as more than a lovesick puppy that followed Tamlins every move.

When you returned to Tamlin you mentioned the meeting rather briefly, not wishing to upset him any further.

“Rhysand was here?” He asked sharply, eyes scanning you as though for injury. “Did he hurt you? What did he want?”

You sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at him. “He did not do anything, Tam. I assume he came to make sure you were still miserable. He wasn’t very pleased to find me instead.” A teasing smile danced across your face, an attempt to lighten the situation.

It didn’t work. Tamlin frowned deeply, clearly upset that this happened. “He comes every now and again to remind me i’m worthless and alone. He laughed himself silly when he saw how sickly i’d become last time.”

You forced your anger down, not trusting yourself to speak. While you understood why Rhysand would be so full of hate for Tamlin, there has to be a limit before it becomes just pointless cruelty. You took a deep breath, looking intently at your friend. “Whatever he has said to you is irrelevant now. You are healing, as is this Court. That is all that matters. Do not dwell on the events of the past, not now.” You reached over and grabbed the warm tea you had made, filling his cup with it. “Now drink, and rest. I gather soon you’ll be up to a walk around the grounds.”

***

Tamlins healing came slowly, and not without challenge. The first day he got out onto the desolate gardens surrounding the manor he fell into a darkness deeper than before, pained at seeing what his home had become. The physical healing was only part of the battle, the healing of his mind was what truly ailed him. You had brought him back to bed, forcing him to eat and rest. Once you were certain he was down for the night you made your way back outside, sitting on the cracked grand steps leading up to the entry.

And you cried.

This task was more than you expected. Tamlin was in worse shape than you ever imagined, the Court was nothing more than a few dead plants. You had no idea where to go from here, how else to aid in his healing. Even when he was healed, how were you going to go about healing the Court? Bringing the fae home? You’d heard how it had fallen, the poison Feyre had spewed, the ways in which some of what she had said rang true. You knew how Tamlin put his faith in the wrong beings, how his focus on her lead to his destruction. This was beginning to feel like all too much on you, but you refused to give up on him.

Someone spoke your name softly.

You shot up from the steps, eyes narrowing as you took in your surroundings. Your heart stopped when you realized who was standing in front of you.

“L-Lucien?”

His name was enough to have him running up to you, wrapping you tight in his arms. You sunk into his embrace, tears taking over with a new force. You allowed yourself to let out all you had been holding back, safe in the arms of one of your closest friends. Lucien held you close, body shaking with his own emotion. The two of you stood that way until your eyes were dry. When you finally pulled back enough to look up into his face your heart ached. One hand came up to gently touch the scarring left by Amarantha, anger and pain in both of you. “I’m so sorry I left.”

Lucien shook his head vigorously. “None of that. I stood by Tamlin when he decided you should stay away. I do not regret that choice for a moment.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, giving you one last squeeze before letting you go. “How is he?”

You sighed deeply. “He’s bad. I am starting to lose hope.” You were ashamed to speak the words out loud.

Lucien reached out and grabbed ahold of your hand. “Take me to him?”

You nodded, leading him through the desolate manor. You heard his sharp intake of breath as he took in the destruction, even with your pitiful attempts at fixing it. You paused outside of your rooms, looking up to Lucien. “He has not told me all that transpired between you, however he has told me enough. I am sorry for the pain you have suffered at his hand. The male you are about to see is but a shell of the one you once knew. If it’s too much I do not expect you to stay.”

Lucien squeezed your hand reassuringly. “At the end of it all, Tamlin was one of my greatest friends. And you are worth more than any pain he has bestowed upon me. I do not wish to see either of you suffer anymore than you already have.”

You gave him a watery smile and pushed open the doors. You felt his hand go slack as he took in the sight of Tamlin tucked into your bed, how sickly he still looked. You stayed close to the doors as Lucien approached him, allowing him to process what he was seeing. “Oh, Tam,” he whispered, a hand running across his face. “What have we done?” He stood there for a while, looking over his old friend. You went to him when you noticed the gentle shake of his shoulders, tears falling slowly down his cheeks.

“Come,” you whispered, wrapping an arm around him. “He will not wake until well into the morning. I’ll make you something warm to drink and you can rest until then.” You led Lucien down to the kitchens, fixing him up a cup of tea. He sat in silence while you did, staring blankly at the wall.

“I should not have left him in my anger,” he finally spoke, looking up as you handed him the cup. “I was so hurt by how he had acted, but I was not innocent in all that happened. Even when I disagreed with his actions I still followed him, up until the end. I’ve allowed him to fall into this state.” You knelt down in front of him, wrapping your hands around his.

“You must not think like that. We all have our own guilts and pain, but we must come back together now. Everything has changed and yet so much is the same. I have missed you, Lucien. I have missed the both of you more than I can say.” You looked down at your hands around his, taking a deep breath. “We need to come up with a plan to help him, to save our Court. Otherwise it will remain dead for eternity.”

***

Weeks went by. Lucien stayed and helped you, the two of you fixing up your home. Tamlin had improved greatly in the physical sense, but his mind was still riddled in guilt. Your pain at seeing him struggle had slowly turned into anger. “What else can we do, Lucien? Do you expect me to sit and wait decades more for him to move on?” You seethed, pacing back and forth in front of the grand fireplace. The two of you spent most nights in the newly refurbished study, the favorite of the rooms you’ve redone. The estate had been mostly repaired to its former glory, aside from the missing staff and High Lord.

“You know how long it can take. You saw the state he was in. I know it is frustrating to continue waiting but what else do you propose we do?” Lucien was as exhausted as you were, but his own guilt at letting Tamlin fall this far kept him slightly more amicable. You paused your pacing, turning sharply to look at him.

“I’m going to tell him off. We have let him deal with everything in private as much as we can. He needs a wake up call, and so help me I will do it.” You made your way from the room before Lucien could stop you. You knew you should calm down before you get to Tamlin’s rooms, finished only days ago. Your hands were clenched tightly into fists at your sides as you stormed through the manor, trying to decide what to say. All you knew was that you were angry and tired of watching your dearest friend lose himself.

You reached his doors rather quickly, shoving them open without a second thought. They clattered against the walls, alerting Tamlin to your presence. He looked over at you curiously, eyes scanning over you. “Has something happened?” He asked, sitting up in his bed. You crossed your arms tight in front of you.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Something has happened.” You watched his expression change slightly at the pure rage in your voice, as if he knew what you were going to say. “You. You, Tamlin. I am sick and tired of watching you wallow in self pity. I understand, you were hurt. You are ashamed of how you acted in your own rage. But how long must this go on? I am home, Tam. I am here, for you. Lucien and I have repaired this estate and you have done nothing but sit in this godforsaken bed and pout!” You couldn’t help the increased volume in your voice, all your hidden frustration bursting free from you. “I want you to get up. I want you to get out of this bed, put some damned clothes on, and come to work. Do you understand?” You stared him down, breathing slightly heavy.

Something strange flickered through his eyes, an emotion you had never seen in him. His voice was deathly cold when he responded. “Are you making demands of your High Lord?”

An exasperated sigh rolled off your lips. “At this point I’m more High Lord than you are.” You knew that was cruel, a direct attack to his already hurt pride. The rational part of your mind was screaming for you to calm down, to take a step back. But your anger was winning. “I came here to help you, Tamlin. Have I not done so? Have I not devoted my life to yours?”

His scoff cut you off. “No one forced you to do that,” he spat out, leaning back against his headboard. “You did not have to come back here. You shouldn’t have come back here.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is my home. You are my home! Don’t you get it, Tam? It has always been you!” The anger rushed out of your body at your confession, a sudden lightheadedness coming over you. “It was always you,” you whispered out, a hand coming to rest on your forehead. The strength left your body, your legs failing to hold you up. The floor was coming up fast, blessedly fast. You hoped you would hit it hard enough to forget this moment, your embarrassing confession.

Then you stopped. Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you back up. One stayed tightly around your waist while the other cupped your chin, forcing you to look into the perfect green of Tamlin’s eyes. “Say it again,” he whispered, breath ghosting over your lips.

“It is you. You are my home,” you murmured, brain foggy at his proximity. In all the decades of loving him, you had never been caught in a moment like this.

Tamlin took a deep breath before moving a millimeter closer. “How long?” He asked, each syllable causing his lips to brush against yours.

“Since we were children. My father pushed for me to marry one of your brothers, but I never held any interest in them. My heart has always called out for you.” Your body was on fire, every slight brush of his lips against yours a lightning strike under your skin. “I waited. I waited for you to choose me at Calanmai.” You felt his nails dig slightly into your waist at that, a shuddering breath running through him. “I waited for you to seek a wife once you were more comfortable as High Lord. I waited and waited. Then you sent me away.”

The hand under your chin moved to hold your face, thumb running gently over your cheek. “I sent you away,” he began, voice heavy, “because it was getting too hard to focus with you around. With the constant need running through my veins.” His hand dropped to the back of your neck, squeezing ever so gently. “Every Calanmai my body sang for yours. It took insurmountable control to not drag you in that cave with me each year.” You couldn’t help the noise that came from you at that. Something in Tamlin snapped, his pupils blown wide before pressing his lips fully against yours.

The kiss was harsh, unleashing decades of pent up desire. You cried out when he bit your lip, canines sharp. The taste of your blood on his tongue was positively sinful, making you feel a way you never had before. His lips moved from yours, running down your neck before his teeth sunk in to your shoulder. You moaned his name loudly, throwing your head back in a silent plea for more. Tamlin growled, the arm around your waist moving to slide down between your thighs. His fingers teased the waistband of your pants, your skin burning in the wake of his touch. You had half a mind to grab his hand and force it where you needed him the most, when Lucien decided to make his presence known.

“I see we kissed and made up?” He cooed, a smirk on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. Tamlin turned sharply to him, elongated nails and teeth on full display.

“Leave. Now.”

***

One year later

The Spring Court was alive once more. In fact, it was more beautiful than it had ever been. The flowers bloomed bright and big, their pleasant perfume filling the lands. The grass was the richest shade of green, the trees sang in the wind, and the air ran fresh. It was a paradise. You were admiring the peonies in the garden when two arms wrapped around your waist, tucking you close. You leaned into Tamlin’s hold, a content sigh escaping you.

“How are the flowers today, my love?” He asked, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

“They are perfect,” you said with a smile, resting your hands over his. You looked down at the glittering emerald set in gold on your finger, a matching golden band circling his own. “How is my husband today?”

“Mmm,” he groaned, pressing more kisses down your neck. “Greatly improved now that I have you here. The other Courts are being rather obtuse about answering our letters.” You turned in his arms, resting your hands upon his chest.

“Do you wish for me to deal with them again? You know they rather like me,” you teased, playing with the fabric of his shirt. Your husband rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss you sweetly.

“They do seem to prefer you, High Lady.” You smiled at the title, a name you were still getting used to. You caught his lips with yours once more, threading one hand up through his hair. He sighed into your mouth, pulling you tighter against him. You lead the kiss, allowing his mind to grow muddled under your touch. You tugged on some strands of his hair, relishing in the guttural sound he made before pulling away from him and out of his grasp.

“Come on, High Lord. Let’s go convince the other Courts that a Spring ball is an excellent idea, planned by their very favorite High Lady.”

***

Ahhhh I LOVE this one. I hope you all do too! This took me agessss to write, but I am ever so thankful for your patience with me. <3

Note: If you do not like Tamlin, that is fine, but do not come here to argue. Just scroll on <3

#azrielsdoves 1k celebration #tamlin x reader #acotar x reader #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x you #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #petals and pain

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

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Hello! I loved "A Second Chance" and would like to give you some ideas for a third part:

- Helion attending the birth of his daughter

-Lucien spoiling his little sister

-IC's reaction to seeing Lucien with his little sister

-Helion taking care of his daughter

-Helion's daughter calls Lucien a funny name like Lu or Luci or another funny name

I hope at least one of my ideas inspires you and thank you for writing such beautiful stories.

I'm down to write all of these so if any of them tickle your fancy let me know. Also, we need to come up with a name for the little lady if we will keep this world going. 😌

warning: hard birth, pain, blood.

Second chance III (part IV)

You were nearing your due date and it was starting to show. You were extremely uncomfortable. No matter what you did - stood, sat, laid - it was all uncomfortable so you were constantly turning and moving. And that only made you more tired.

Lucien had taken over most of Helion's work. He had offered one evening when he found you crying in the kitchen quietly because you were missing your husband who had once again been held up in a meeting. Stress wasn't good at this stage of pregnancy and so Lucien was determined to take all the negative triggers away.

So the two of them had mastered the art of taking care of you. There was no one they trusted more than one another when it came to you. So if not Helion, then Lucien was with you and visa-versa.

You had woken up extremely uneasy this morning. You couldn't put a finger as to what felt off but it was unsettling. You brushed it off to the fact that Helion wasn't in bed. That man barely slept lately. You had scolded him about it but even if he agreed you knew that not much was going to change. Rubbing your hands over your now big bump you made your way downstairs. Multiple servants greeted you but you brushed them off. The last thing you needed was to feel cornered by them now.

Lucien was sitting in the living room. A cup in his hand as he read some document. You let out a sigh of discomfort as you wobbled down the stairs. Hating the change of gravity in your body. Within a blink of an eye, Lucian was out of his chair, walking your way.

"How are we feeling this morning?", he had given up on trying to convince you to take it easy by now. "Like there's a head between my legs", Lucien's eyes widened as he looked at you and you couldn't help but chuckle slightly, "There's no head there... yet. Just feeling tight all over". The relief washed over Lucien as he walked you closer to the sofa but you stopped midway.

"Come on a walk with me. I need to move my body", you held onto his hand but you can see the disapproval on his face. "Let me at least warm up your back for a bit, it'll soothe the ache", oh that you could have moaned in delight at. Lucien's fire fingers had been a true blessing. Your back had given up on you mid-pregnancy. You couldn't move because it was too much strain for your body but not moving was not healthy too. So Lucien had turned into your massage expert, his warm fingers digging into the sore muscles in your hack. Oh, that fanthom heat lingering even with him not being present.

"After the walk. I just feel disgusting", you muttered, you moved one of your hands beneath your bump to give it that extra support. Lucien nodded, wrapping a supportive arm around your lower back and taking your hand with his free one. You flashed him a smile as you felt the warmth from him seeping into your body.

You two had grown closer through the months. You already saw him as your son and the fact that he had turned to you multiple times when he needed help with dates and things regarding Elain made your heart fluster. He had called you mother once. It was the heat of the moment because he had found you nearly climbing the linen closet for a baby blanket. But there was such pure concern there. You had cupped his face softly after, promising him that you weren't mad and that in his own time, he was more than welcome to call you his mom.

The gardens were in full bloom. Helion was constantly saying that his daughter was going to be the most beautiful little flower girl if she chose to enter the world in the mid-bloom season. That itself made you lean more towards the names that associated with different flowers. It felt fitting. But you two hadn't fully decided. Wanted to see her first before granting her a name she would have to carry for the rest of her life.

The fresh air instantly made you feel better. The warm sun helped too, even if it didn't stand a chance against Lucien's warmth. His steps were slow as he walked with you. The tightness in your stomach made you still as you huffed slightly. Lucien instantly held onto you firmer. "I'm fine just... your sister is scheming something", you rubbed at the painfully tight skin, waiting for the muscles to ease. "I pray she won't be as stubborn as Eris at least", Lucien muttered making you smile. The oldest Vanserra had become rather frequent visitor as well. Sure the family line there was thin but he was happy for Lucien and well also just as desperate for a girl to enter that bloodline. Now you had two rather abandoned foxes roaming your house.

"As if you aren't stubborn yourself, fireheart", you teased him. Lucien rolled his eyes, "If you're comparing me to yourself, I'm dead last", you playfully slapped his arm. Until another wave of pain shoots through you making you hold onto Lucien stronger. Just this tightness was accompanied by a light pop and then a warm liquid trickling down your legs. It damped the deep green sleeping gown that you were wearing indicating to Lucien just what was happening.

"Lu...", you muttered in fear, suddenly it was all too real. This baby was coming and you, you would have to push her out. There was no backing down now. "Breath through it", he said calmly, sensing the panic within you, "Just focus on breathing now", his strong arms quickly reached to pick you up, carefully rushing back inside where the chaos quickly spiked.

You had no clue how long you had been moaning in pain, hair damp with sweat, sheets ripped from all the pulling you had been doing. Helio hadn't returned yet meaning that you were more than worried especially because you couldn't reach him through the bond. But Lucien was there, snarling at any healer who tried to usher him out of the room, "You focus on your part, I'll focus on mine", he barked at them.

"What if he's dead?", you cried out as another contraction ripped through your body, "Mom...", Lucien pleaded, "Father is not dead. He got held up by some stupid fuck", he placed a cold damp cloth onto your forehead softly, "He's going to be here. He won't miss this for life". You looked up into his soft eyes, which had been monitoring you ever since he carried you to your chambers.

Your screams filled Helion's ears and he had never run up the stairs faster in his life. Shoving past the guards as he yanked the door open. The meeting he got urgently swept into was a trap. He and Rhys took care of it. There was no threat now just the fact that he had missed the start of this was already eating at him.

Healers were urging you to push but he could tell from the cries leaving your lips that you were losing your strength. Helion quickly rounded the corner. Lucien was holding onto you. One arm wrapped around your back as he tried to save you from the struggle of pulling yourself up for every push. His fingers were nearly purple from how tight you were gripping them but the boy said nothing, only watching you with concerned eyes. His gaze met Helion's and the male could see a wave of relief washing over him.

Quickly coming to your side, Helion too draped his arm over your shoulder, before reaching for your free hand that was aimlessly wrapped around the pillow. "Helion", you cried out, "I'm here my light, I'm with you now. I'm sorry I wasn't there to start with", his lips left a couple of warm kisses at the side of your head. He didn't care about all of the sweat. None of that mattered. All he cared about was for you two to be safe.

Just life had other plans. You were growing weaker with every push but the baby just didn't want to come. Helion had fully taken the place behind your back now, but Lucien still held your hand, now focusing on changing the cold cloth. Your head lulled back after yet another push. Helion's praises filled your ears but they barely reached you now. The healer looked among themselves quickly, worry so evident on their faces.

The two males caught onto that quickly. "What is it?", Helion asked, chest growling tight as the worst fear slowly unfolded in front of him. They said nothing for some time until Lucien practically roared, "Speak! This involves my mother and my sister, speak!", the females flinched.

"The baby... baby might be breached", one of them muttered, "Lady, is also losing a lot of blood we need to speed this up". Helion's face drained of color. If he was going to lose you... If you were going to... Lucien noticed the change of mood in the room. Your sobs were threatening too, "I can't do this", you moaned. But Lucien refused to let that settle in. He had already lost so much. Been robbed of so much.

He clasped the back of Helion's neck tightly, bringing his father closer to him so their eyes met, "Scrap whatever that's going in your head now. She needs you alert and strong", Helion's eyes took flame at those words. With a quick nod, he turned back at you. The two of them pulled you up. The healer wanted you on your knees at least. The help of gravity was just one more factor they wanted to use to their advantage.

Helion was now firmly supporting your weight as you squatted between his legs, screaming at the top of your lungs as you pushed. Lucien more than even wished that he could do more than just soothe some of the pain with his fire. With so many healers all around you now he couldn't ever hold your hand.

"It's working, I feel the baby", one of the healers said. "Come on, dearest, I know you can do this", Helion muttered into your ear, "You'll get to hold her soon. She'll be right here". You gritted your teeth as you pulled the last bits of strength from your body. Pushing and pushing, till everything around you turned into an unrecognizable blur.

All until a cry pierced the room. A strong cry of someone who had just been robbed of a never-ending warmth and brought into this way cooler room. "What a set of strong lungs", the healer quickly wrapped the babe into the blanket. Helion moved to kiss the side of your head, and shoulders, bringing your palm to his lips as happy tears ran down his cheeks, "I'm so proud of you, thank you, thank you", he muttered. Just you said nothing, he didn't feel a breath of relief leaving your lips. Pulling you slightly to the side in hopes of catching your eyes, Helion felt your head slip off his shoulder. Bile rose in his throat and the chaos erupted once more.

Healers were all around you, no one was answering Helion's questions. Lucien pushed closer to the bed that you were once again dragged onto. The sight of blood all over the bed made him feel sick. He wondered if any of this by any chance could be normal. He tried to pull all the stories Feyre had shared about her births. Nothing matched up except the time she almost died.

Someone quickly shoved a bundle of material into his arms. Lucien could hear Helion shouting your name. More females rushed through the door, he caught a glimpse of Madja among them. Then a light sniff caught his attention. Lucien carefully moved the side of the material. And here in his arms laid the most beautiful baby he had ever laid eyes on. Her big eyes scarcely looked at him with cheeks still bright pink from all the crying. So Lucien pressed her closer to his chest, slipping out of the room and taking her away from all of the chaos.

#lucien x helion #helion x reader #helion imagine #helion x you #lucien x you #lucien vanserra x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotat x you

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hrizantemy · 1 month ago

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What is your favorite ship in ACOTAR? And what kind of character arc would you want the current cast to go through in future books?

Ooh, I love this question. So—my favorite ship in ACOTAR is probably Helion and the Lady of Autumn. There’s just so much buried emotion, missed chances, longing, secrecy, and quiet tragedy there—it gives rich, aching depth to both of them in a way that feels deeply untapped in canon. I’m obsessed with the idea of them having been each other’s safe place in a world that offered them neither safety nor love.

If you’re asking about a main ship, then I’d say Elain and Lucien. And funnily enough, it’s not because I have strong feelings about Lucien himself—I really don’t. It’s more that the dynamic has so much potential for complexity: obligation vs. choice, silence vs. honesty, power vs. gentleness. Elain deserves to grow into her own person, not just a vision-drenched symbol of fragility. And Lucien? He could be the first person to see all of her and not flinch. That story could be really beautiful if it’s handled right.

As for arcs? I’d love:

• Feyre to have an arc where she steps out of her role as High Lady and reclaims an identity outside of Rhysand’s politics. Something quieter, rooted in healing and letting go of performance.

• Nesta to walk away from the Night Court entirely and build something for herself—not because she’s banished or broken, but because she chooses it.

• Cassian to reckon with his complicity in Illyria’s oppression, not just through guilt, but through action.

• Elain to break the mold—whether through prophecy, violence, or quiet defiance—and embrace her power unapologetically.

• Mor to finally live for herself, not for what other people think she should be or how they’ve shaped her identity.

Rhysand’s current character arc has largely plateaued. He’s been framed as a “perfect” ruler, lover, friend, and leader, to the point where the narrative refuses to challenge him. But there’s so much potential for a compelling arc if the books were willing to interrogate him.

What I’d love to see:

• A fall from grace. Rhysand has built a kingdom around image control, secrets, and manipulation—he sells the story of Velaris, of freedom and peace, while keeping Illyria and the Hewn City in systemic oppression. A real arc would force him to reckon with that hypocrisy not just externally, but internally. What happens when Velaris starts to lose faith in him? What happens when someone he loves tells him, plainly, that he is part of the problem?

• Confronting the “protector” delusion. Rhys sees himself as a savior. He calls his manipulation love. He infantilizes Feyre under the guise of keeping her safe. His arc should be about learning to let go of control, to stop deciding what’s “best” for everyone around him, and to accept the uncomfortable truth: loving someone means trusting them, not protecting them from the truth.

• Guilt and consequence. He needs to face what he did Under the Mountain—not just the horror he endured, but what he inflicted. Clare Beddor. Feyre’s drugged dances. His unchecked rage toward Tamlin that’s more about Rhys himself than anyone else. The series has let him play both the victim and the hero. But real growth would be letting him be neither. Just a man who made choices—and now has to live with them.

Azriel is perhaps the most tragically underwritten member of the Inner Circle. He has all the makings of a deeply powerful, deeply broken character—and yet, so far, he’s been used mostly as a brooding background element with a crush.

But there’s so much more here.

What I’d love to see:

• An identity beyond the IC. Azriel was raised in shadows—literally and figuratively. He was tortured, discarded, and then pulled into this found family where loyalty means silence. But who is Azriel, outside of the shadows? Who is he without orders, without secrets, without acting as everyone’s convenient knife in the dark?

• Confronting complicity. As spymaster, Azriel knows everything. He sees how Illyria suffers. He sees what the Night Court hides. And yet he stays quiet. Why? Is it love? Is it trauma? Is it fear? His arc should be about choosing to act, even when it means stepping away from the people he’s always followed.

#anti acosf #anti inner circle #anti acotar #anti rhysand #pro nesta #anti feysand #nesta archeron deserves better #anti cassian #anti azriel #anti amren #anti night court #anti morrigan #anti nessian

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lady-sunbeam · 3 months ago

Text

Pearls, Part Five

Part Four, Part Six

Masterlist

Summary: Elain and Lucien tour the city. Elain realizes she's in far deeper than she thought.

Word Count: 2.7k

Considering her forwardness in offering Lucien a kiss despite all her time of evading him and his scent of apples and bourbon, Elain thought it rather silly that she found herself so anxious – and yet as Lucien ducked into his own quarters to freshen up, she lingered in the doorframe and tucked her trembling hands behind her skirt.

He’d already kissed her, she reminded herself as she watched the muscles of his back move while he checked the knives strapped beneath his tunic and to his sides. He’d kissed her so brilliantly that the memory of Graysen and the lingering regret of Azriel had been utterly dashed from her mind, burned out the moment his lips roved over hers and his tongue swept into her mouth. She might rationalize that having done it before actually made her more nervous now, for the first kiss could be explained away as a moment of passion, and she could have denied the point that she kissed him back right up until he broke away and she tugged him back down. Even still, her attraction for him could still have been nothing more than the result of proximity to a handsome male and the tug of a bond existing outside of her immediate control.

This promise of something later, though, indicated its thoughtfulness. And the fact that she did not wish to revoke it frightened her.

Lucien looked over his shoulder, arching a brow as he walked towards the door and offered her his arm. Courteously, he said nothing about the mild flush on her cheeks or the wideness of her eyes.

She slipped her hand under and around to rest lightly on his forearm, resisting the incredible and sudden urge to grab hold of his bicep that had a small, dying piece of her mind looking upon her in ever weakening reproach while the rest of her demanded more, more, more.

But Lucien seemed unaware of her struggle with dignity and led her along as if he knew this palace intimately and brought her to the balcony looking out over Day’s capital. She might have asked why, but the shimmering veil of the palace wards faded just at the edge of it and parted over Lucien’s skin like water.

Lucien frowned. “He’s keyed me to the wards already,” he murmured, turning over his shoulder to let his metal eye click and whir. “Just how in hell did he manage that?”

Though there was something dark in Lucien’s eye and an immense sort of sorrow, or perhaps longing, Elain couldn’t help her tiny smile. It seemed appropriate that the male who wished to gift Nyx had a Pegasus would also be the sort to bring his son into his life as quickly as possible, even if he was still reeling.

Hesitating, she said, “You’ll be on the will by dinner.”

It had every chance to offend him, and she would flee right back to the Night Court if it did.

Lucien tipped his head back and laughed.

It was a merry sound that blazed like dawn and was as warm as the sun, and she felt like a cat for all the desire that suddenly flooded her demanding she bask in it forever. The laugh alone should have told her and everyone else who his father was, and it wasn’t for the similar timbre of it, or the rhythm, but for the way it was pure light.

It was the sort of laugh that her giggling softly, and Lucien’s eye widened at the sound. He turned to face her, grinning broadly, and then they were both laughing for no real reason at all, the servants in the hall pausing and looking over with furrowed brows.

She’d deprived herself of him for too long.

Lucien brought her to a small restaurant within the city that lay nestled between a clothier and an old townhome for sale. The bistro was a pale blue, a mural of a wide lake beneath the sun painted across the front, broken up only by windows and the wide-open door.

He led her up the front steps and into the interior – natural wood paneling that groaned, tall windows in the back and front to replace the light lost by having buildings on either side. Stained glass filled them, depictions of various High Lords and heroes, and above, in the ceiling, was a skylight.

They were seated by a small table near one of the stained-glass windows, Lucien pulling out her chair without a word. His eye trailed up the image, and a wry smile touched his mouth, but he said nothing as he turned to her.

“We’ll have to write to your sister,” he said quietly. His low voice rumbled down her spine. “But I don’t think it wise to explain the whole of it.”

In the case of interception. Elain nodded slowly and waited until the waitress had set down two glasses of water before she answered. “I’ll send it. No one would think anything of it, as opposed to their emissary.”

She almost flinched at the word. It just served as a reminder that he would likely not be returning to the Night Court any time soon, perhaps other than to retrieve of any of his personal effects from the apartment across the city, and that a title much larger than emissary awaited him, regardless of how he felt about it. When the time came, the magic would presumably choose him.

But Lucien’s face was perfectly smooth as he perused the menu. “We’ll have to explain the same reasoning to Helion.”

“If nothing else, you know he’s taking it well.”

“Or he’s panicking.” Lucien smiled a bit at her over the menu before setting it down. “I’d rather talk about you, Elain.”

The slow drag of his tongue over each letter had her drooping like on a warm sunny day, the anxious beating of her heart easing until it was almost leisurely. The waitress came and went; she had the vague recollection of ordering and receiving her meal but spent the whole of the time watching him.

“—it washed me out terribly; compared to Feyre and Nesta I was positively wretched.”

Lucien’s eye sparked. The corner of his mouth ticked up in what she now knew to be the precursor to flirtation. If she leaned forward a bit and brushed back her hair so he could see the pearls in her ears, it was entirely coincidental and not at all because she delighted in the hope and attraction that had that tiny smile widening. “You’ve not been wretched a day in your life,” he murmured, and she envied the tea he’d been drinking. Oh gods, what a bizarre thing to feel. “But if I never see you in Night Court black again, I will take that to mean you’ve found a place that feels like home.”

“I love Feyre dearly,” she said quietly. “And Rhys, and Nyx, and all of my family. But as much as I tried, Night was never quite right for me. Never quite my home.”

His eye searched hers as it danced across her face. They’d had a similar conversation at the festival, and though it had only been a few days, it felt as if it were a lifetime past. “It’s too cold,” he said quietly. “At least for me.”

She nodded. “Most of the flowers I prefer don’t grow as easily there. And. . . I would be content to spend all my days outside. But I’d freeze doing that.”

Lucien huffed a soft laugh. “I can’t promise that winter doesn’t ever hit Day, but it’s certainly not as brutal.”

The light through the glass cast dizzying kaleidoscopes across his skin and set his eye ablaze. The sun caught upon the soft sheets of blazing hair and set it burning, just as she was sure to do if he kept looking at her like that.

Eventually, she slipped away to the restroom before her heart could explode out of her chest, hurrying inside and staring into the mirror. Her face was flushed in the aftermath of a compliment, hands trembling with the fear of somehow ruining it. She splashed cool water on her face, watched it drip down her wrists before she located towels and dabbed it up.

Gods, he was gorgeous.

When she returned, the table had been cleared and Lucien was waiting for her. It was only then that she realized what the stained glass was.

Above him towered a man eerily like Helion, with amber eyes and dark skin, broad shoulders and a vague rendering of the nose that had passed to Lucien. The male wore the same crown Helion did, and with the simplicity of the stained glass she might have thought it really was Helion were it not for the young boy sitting at his sandaled feet – Helion’s father, then. And Lucien’s grandfather.

Executed Under the Mountain, she recalled, and the weight of the sorrow rocked her. Lucien had been an adult, had perhaps even met the male, and they’d never known what they were to each other. They’d never gotten the chance.

They spent the remainder of the day exploring the city. She was content not to mention the stained glass, and he said nothing of how she had agreed so quickly to linger in Day. It was not a promise of anything. It was only a kindness, to give him a safe way to meet with his father without fearing for the life of his mother.

The dessert Lucien had wanted to try was a flaky pastry with custard that tasted of lemon and cinnamon. He bought one for each of them and sat on a high wall looking down upon a strip of beach, and while she might have said that the sun was setting and they should return to the palace quickly, the thought never crossed her mind next to Lucien. He’d been keeping an eye out the entire day.

It melted in her mouth, earning a soft moan. If she’d been paying attention, she would have noticed the tips of Lucien’s ears flush, but he only said quietly, “I feared that I would come here and realize it could not be my home.”

Elain’s brows furrowed as she looked over at him. He watched the stars, the ships in the harbor and the people still lounging on the beach. She understood for once what Rhys meant when he claimed the nights in his court were the most beautiful – the stars shone brighter there, the sky a thousand shades of blue and purple and black. The night did not prevail here. Day did, and already she was desperate to watch the sunrise.

“I worried I would come here and feel what I felt when I went to Summer. I visited once, and beautiful as it was, I knew I wouldn’t want to live there. Spring was home because of my friends, but I was bored. It was too refined. And Night’s landscape is harsh, as we’ve discussed. So I thought there might be something that glared out at me, and I did not want to realize that I would be bound to a place I did not love.”

“And?”

Lucien shook his head. “I won’t say it’s home yet. That takes time. But it is the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited.”

Gently, she knocked his boot with her foot and smiled up at him. “The dessert lived up to your expectations, then?”

“It did.” His eye narrowed in on the corner of her mouth, and he gave her a half smile as his hand lifted and inched near her chin. “It seems you did, too.”

His callused thumb brushed against the corner of her mouth, wiping away a bit of crumbling pastry. But his hand lingered. Slid fully against her cheek to cup her face.

Lucien’s breathing had slowed, eye dark and the other perfectly still as her lips parted with the shortness of her breath. It caught his attention like a predatory cat with a swishing tail.

“The lady suggested a kiss,” he murmured. “I find I’m amicable.”

Elain could only nod and lean closer to him. “Good.”

“Good.”

A breathless laugh. “Very. . . very good.”

Slowly, gently, as if time itself had slowed to give them an eternity to make up for the years they lost, his lips claimed hers, warm and leisurely and steady. She opened for his tongue and swallowed the soft, shaky sigh he let out, draping her arms around his neck and tugging herself closer to the heat radiating from him.

His other hand held her waist and drifted to the small of her back, the one on her cheek slipping into her hair and angling her face for better access. A soft, breathy moan left her mouth, and at the very sound of it, the air around them warmed, Lucien’s grip tightening.

She knew he’d go no further unless she asked for it. Was being careful not to frighten her, or himself. And as much as she wanted him to ravish her utterly. . . she still did not know him fully. And this bond between them would only grow to demand more if she took him to her bed.

And after everything that happened today, she didn’t want it to be merely a distraction. She wanted it to be because he loved her, and she loved him, because they were promising something to each other beyond the few weeks or months she would stay in Day.

She pulled back gently, eyes slipped shut, and gently rested her forehead against his to hear the thundering of his heart and the heavy breaths from his mouth. “We should stop.”

He nodded wordlessly.

“I’m sure there’s lipstick on your face.”

A soft huff, but still neither moved, only opened their eyes to look at each other. Lucien’s thumb drifted gently across her high cheekbone, and he murmured, “I didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.”

“And? Now that you’ve had a few.”

“Perfect.” He reached up to smooth her hair with a gentle hand. “You may very well have created a monster.”

“You can’t be worse than Rhys.”

He winced. “I’m sure sharing a house with the pair of them is its own form of horror.”

She laughed softly, stirring his long lashes. “The worst part is when Feyre tries to play it off.” Without thinking, she reached over to straighten his lapels, knuckles brushing against the warm, strong column of his neck. It bobbed beneath her touch. “And then Rhys comes in smiling like a cat with its prey.”

Lucien laughed. “An image I didn’t think would ever exist.”

“You seem to generally be in a state of surprise.”

His eye softened, meeting her own, and the hand that lingered on her back tightened just a fraction. “I consider it to be a good thing.”

“A pragmatist, are you?”

“A realist.”

“Clearly it’s not so real, if you’re always surprised.”

“Fitting, then, that my mate is a Seer.” He leaned back just a bit and thumbed at a bit of smeared gloss on her chin. She did the same to the mess of it on his face, though she didn’t get very far, her hands sticky.

“The servants will have something to talk about,” he muttered dryly as he peered down at her fingers and touched the sticky residue on his face. “As will anyone that walked by in the last ten minutes.”

A dark flush stained her cheeks. Gods, she was losing it.

Lucien turned around and slid down from the wall, offering her a hand to climb down. Where hers shook with adrenaline, his looked surprisingly steady until she took it and found his skin to be unnaturally warm.

He winnowed her back to the balcony without his eye ever leaving hers and escorted her back to her room. He seemed to simmer with something unsaid, so she leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“The theater,” she reminded him quietly. “Tomorrow evening at seven.”

He nodded, stricken by her kiss, and before she could think too long on it or wonder if it had been, for whatever reason, unwelcome, he swept down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. A soft laugh bubbled out of her, but he was already gone.

#elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #sarah j maas #lucien vanserra supremacy #a court of thorns and roses #helion #elain archeron x lucien vanserra

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dent-de-leon · 4 months ago

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How much did Caleb Widogast’s heart ache for Mollymauk? How much did he truly love Tealeaf, that he was the person to both bury him and get on his hands and knees to dig up his grave with his bare hands all these months later??

Caleb Widogast dug Molly’s grave. He was the one who dug him back up. With his bare hands, on his knees. Having no qualms about disturbing Molly's grave because, "I'm already going to hell anyway"--the implication that Caleb believes he's already damned, beyond salvation. But Mollymauk was still worth saving.

Caleb buried him with a letter, telling Molly to come find them if he wakes, daring to dream of the impossible, "The man dug his way out of a grave once, if he is to be believed...He's done it once, maybe he will do it again. Do we stay here, do we try to find...? I don't, I--I have read of miracles..." How much it tormented Caleb to have to leave Molly behind.

Several months pass. Jester offers to resurrect Caleb's own parents--the one thing he's always wanted--and he still asks her if she could bring back Mollymauk instead. Dreaming of the possibility of reunion, being the most vocal of all the Nein to push for a resurrection, "[This] could be a conversation, or a reunion." And Jester--always so earnest and full of hope--still tries to temper his expectations, to make sure he doesn't get his heart broken if Mollymauk doesn't return to them.

The Nein feeling entirely at a loss, directionless. Hopeless and heartbroken in Aeor. Jester drawing a card from Molly's tarot deck for guidance, for some bit of comfort after Lucien's coldness. It's pure luck, just chance, but the card she draws is the Magician. "The Magician. So, Molly drew this card for you, Caleb. It looks like you." Caleb seeing that, seeing himself drawn in Molly's hand, and everything falls into place.

He knows where he needs to be. "I have been trying to make sense of everything that's happened in the last few weeks--every day--and I am not seeing it. But...I know that we're supposed to go where Molly is. Otherwise, we would not have seen the things we've seen. We wouldn't be the Mighty Nein."

He dreamed of “reunion,” went all the way to Cognouza because saving Mollymauk was worth it. Always knew where this road was going to lead. "Why did we come this far, if not for this?" "But what if...? Why did we go so far, and fight so hard?" Caleb pleading with Mollymauk's caged soul again and again, begging for him to hold on, to keep fighting. He wasn't beyond hope, they could still save him. "Please don't give up. You can find your own life again. There will be time for that later."

"That wasn't me," Lucien vehemently insists, his will still trying to dominate Caleb's in this world of sheer dreams and manifestation, endless possibilities. "He's gone, and you will all die and join me." "Bullshit," Caleb says, and keeps resisting him again and again, keeps shattering his control. And he pays dearly for it. Lucien kills Caleb for his endless loyalty to Molly, for daring to still try and save him. Caleb, who breaks through Lucien's control again and again, who has the most profound effect on him and Molly when it all comes crashing down.

"He's gone. Let him go. Let it all go..." The last Eye Lucien branded him with--it appears right over Caleb's heart. Did Lucien do that just to spite him, as a way to try and shut out Molly's feelings--

Essek never knew Mollymauk in life, didn't have to grieve him after all the pain Lucien caused. But when he sees Caleb say goodbye, watches Caleb return that forehead kiss from so long ago--sees how much Caleb loves him--that's what makes Essek break down. "Essek gets up in a huff, walks about twenty feet away," storms off and cries over the unfairness of it all, over seeing Caleb and the rest of the Nein lose someone so dear to them.

Of course Caleb is the one who limps to Molly’s side in the end and casts the ritual to resurrect him. Tealeaf reeling from Greater Restoration, wakes in a daze and goes, "Oh...I was having the nicest dream..." And it's Caleb who reaches out to him--asks his name, tries to help him stay grounded. Caleb being the one to assure Kingsley that, "Well, first of all, you are among friends." The way King replies, with absolute certainty, "I know."

Caleb continually holding out a hand to Kingsley, asking him to stay. "Well, let's take him at his word. Perhaps this is your first time meeting us. It's our second time--third time--meeting you. Stick with us." Assuring him that he'll always have a place with the Nein, that Caleb is happy to have him back--whoever he comes to be. That Tealeaf will still always be theirs. "We have a habit of taking in strays." Kingsley being so easily charmed by Caleb and flirting with his Magician immediately, falling so quickly for this person who gave everything to bring him home.

It was always going to be Caleb. He didn’t stop dreaming of getting Molly back from the moment he put him in the ground. He was never going to let him go—

#caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #widomauk #kingsley #they are...really soulmates in every life huh...makes my whole heart ache--#im so sorry this was supposed to be shorter. but caleb is just so dedicated to saving molly and feels so passionately #about him that it just makes it too hard to narrow down every example--#but also. shoutout to yasha turning to caleb and asking him 'is there nothing we could do? caleb?' shes. she molly's best friend.#shes his Love. she's been with him the longest. and when the ritual fails. when she's ready to give up hope--she turns to caleb for help #looks to him to save molly. she...she knew if anyone could. it'd be him. that....means so much--

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bubybubsters · 1 year ago

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Best Friends Forever, Right?

a/n: loosely based off ‘When We Were Young’ by Adele!

wc: 750

*****

“But if by chance you're here alone Can I have a moment? Before I go? 'Cause I've been by myself all night long Hoping you're someone I used to know”

You arrived at the Forest House five minutes before the coronation of the new High Lord was due to begin. Moving to stand in the corner of the room, you scanned the guests. As Eris Vanserra’s most trusted spy and assassin, you’d been assigned to protect him and his brothers. You just hoped one brother wasn’t here. Memories plagued you every night. Of him falling in love with Jesminda. Of him leaving you for the spring court even when you’d been his best friend, his right hand woman. He’d abandoned you to the mercy of Beron Vanserra.

“Everything just takes me back To when you were there To when you were there”

But most of all, when you were promised something. You slipped back into the memory.

*****

“Hey Y/n? You know I love you right?” Your heart rate jumped. Hope igniting in your chest.

“What about Jesminda?”

Luci laughed. “No not like that silly, you’re my best friend.”

You really did feel silly now. “Yep. Of course.”

Lucien offered his pinky. “Best friends forever, right?”

You hooked your pinky within his. “Forever.”

*****

“Y/n!” Tamlin’s voice sounded, breaking you from your thoughts. The High Lord of Spring had been your friend ever since he’d found you half-dead from one of Beron’s interrogation sessions on Lucien. He’d offered to take you to the Spring Court with him but you couldn’t stand the thought of facing your best friend.

“Hi Tam. I’ve got to go. Eris’ brother Raven looks like he needs help from all the ladies.”

Tamlin laughed at you, “This is what your job has descended to? Saving Raven from ladies?”

You smiled and flipped him off over your shoulder as you slid between Raven and the females.

“Hi Rav! Wanna get a drink with me and go make out?” The females scowled and murmured as they stalked away.

“Thanks Y/n. You’re the best.” You hooked your arm through this as the final guests arrived.

The Day Court.

Helion leading his entourage with Lucien a step behind. You looked away, trying leading Raven in the opposite direction. But it was too late, he’d already seen his little brother.

You winnowed away. You couldn’t do this, face him after four centuries of silence. But he was still Lucien. Your Lucien. He looked the same.

“You look like a movie You sound like a song My God this reminds me, of when we were young Let me photograph you in this light In case it is the last time That we might be exactly like we were”

“Fuck!” You screamed, pounding on the nearest wall, welcoming the sting of pain. But… you could do this, talk to him. You had to. You just had to. Did he still remember you? You walked back to the celebration grabbing the strongest glass of wine you could find. You could do this.

Three hours later as the sun went down you still hadn’t talked to him. He’d been approached by everyone! Everyone wanted to get on the good side of the future High Lord of Day. But now, everyone was heading out and the room was empty except the 7 brothers and you. You approached your High Lord first, patting him on his now-crowned head in affection. Eris hissed and swatted your hand away as Raven shook his head watching you with a smile.

“And a part of me keeps holding on Just in case it hasn't gone I guess I still care Do you still care?”

You looked up and there he was, in all his glory.

“Oh, Y/n. Hi.”

That was all you got. After a century of being his best friend and supporting him through things. After going through a dozen sessions of Beron’s interrogation and not spitting a word about his glorious ass. All you got was a ‘Hi.’

“Lucien. Nice to see you’re doing so well after four centuries.”

You knew all his brothers were watching this, hearts breaking for you. They’d all taken turns (they called it required shifts) comforting you for two centuries. Telling you that Lucien wouldn’t just throw away a friendship like that. And yet here you were. Thrown away. Deposited. Trashed.

“Yeah well ummm. Eris could I talk to you?” And there he went, four centuries of waiting.

And he’d walked away.

He didn’t even look back.

*****

a/n: tbh I don’t like this one much, but here y’all go. (My writing is shit!)

tagging: @thelov3lybookworm @profound-imagination

#bubybubsters #acotar #fanfic #acowar #eris vanserra #high lord eris #lucien x you #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #idiot lucien #lucien #luci #lucien is amazing

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shadowqueenjude · 1 year ago

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Tamlin stared at Lucien as he entered the room. It had been ages since he had visited him. Only Lucien’s demand that he stay alive had kept him eating, kept him around here. It was ridiculous, really.

Hardly anyone lived here anymore. They’d all retreated to Summer, else they’d traveled to other courts. He was a pathetic failure just like his father had told him he would be. High Lord of nothing. He didn’t even understand why Lucien kept coming back. Tamlin had treated him like shit; he wouldn’t blame him at all for leaving. The person he’d wronged the most. It had been a couple of years since the land went to ruins, but Tamlin still felt embarrassed that Lucien was there, looking at the ruins. He had the sudden urge to clean everything up, but he couldn’t muster the energy to, nor did he have the slightest idea how to fix what was already broken. But Lucien stood there, and it was a different look from the past few times he’d come to him. Less exhaustion, less pain. There was something glimmering there- something like hope. “Tam,” he said, and Tamlin tried not to wince at the term of endearment. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve his affection or even his presence- “Tamlin, we can fix this place. We can heal this land. Just listen to me for a few minutes.” Tamlin didn’t dare believe, but he couldn’t stamp out the small bubble of hope that grew in his stomach. Perhaps it was because he was used to Lucien working his magic and solving problems seemingly with a wave of his hand, but he had the utmost faith in him to have solved a problem as impossible as this. So he sat there and listened as he explained everything. Tamlin stared at him skeptically. “How are you going to pull that off?” Lucien rolled his eyes. “Have a little faith in me, Tam, won’t you?” He did. He had all the faith in the world in his emissary and friend. But he merely nodded his head, afraid to offend Lucien and scare him away. Lucien smirked at his obedience, then offered a hand to pull him up.

Tamlin let Lucien lift him up and realized in the ease of it that Tamlin had lost a lot of weight. His soldier’s body was gone, replaced by the frail body of the sick and dying. He blushed in shame at his weak body, that Lucien was there to see it, but Lucien wasn’t even looking anymore; he was just walking out of the house, clearly expecting Tamlin to follow. He shuffled his feet behind him, uncertain of what exactly awaited him outside. Tamlin found himself staring at the middle Archeron sister. The resemblance to Feyre wasn’t as clear as it was with Nesta, but Elain still very much resembled her. Her owl-like eyes stared at him inquisitively as Lucien laced his fingers with hers.

Right, they were mates. Tamlin had forgotten. Tamlin tried to be happy for him; no one deserved happiness and a mate more than Lucien. But all he could think about was that he’d lost one Archeron sister and his best friend to another one. He had lost everything to the Archerons, because of the Archerons. Then he hated himself for his jealousy of his friend who had felt so much hurt in his life. “My mate has magic that could heal this land. Healing magic.” Tamlin’s eyes narrowed at Elain. The innocent sister always protected by Nesta, as narrated by Feyre. Tamlin had always thought Feyre had seen her sisters unclearly, had noticed Feyre hadn’t considered work that was done within the household, merely resenting her sisters for not helping her hunt. Of course, he hadn’t told her that because he’d been trying to woo her at that would’ve definitely hurt his chances. But he’d never seen Elain as the innocent, helpless damsel Feyre had thought she was. Especially not a woman who the Cauldron deemed worthy of a man as fiery as Lucien. So when Elain refused to balk from his gaze, instead standing up straighter and staring right back at him, Tamlin saw the strong feminine woman that she truly was. “What makes you think you can heal this land? Why don’t I just ask Thesan to come help me? He’s the High Lord of the court of healing.” Lucien scoffed but said nothing, allowing his mate to take the lead. She smiled slightly, angling her head at him. “Thesan doesn’t have healing powers straight out of the Cauldron itself. His magic is different, tied to the land he’s connected to. Mine isn’t. It’s unique, just as Nesta’s flames are. It’s almost as if I was made for this- made to complete this task.” Lucien beamed at her, and Tamlin’s heart strained at the open affection between them. But he bowed his head and stepped back, giving way to Elain to do whatever she had to do. She began to walk, and Lucien followed her. Not knowing what else to do, Tamlin did the same. He wasn’t sure what in the world Elain was looking for, but she walked into the forest, and Tamlin let out a low noise of warning. “Please, Tam, we can take care of ourselves.” He pulled out a sword, but Tamlin shapeshifted into his beast form just in case.

“By the Cauldron, what an overprotective idiot,” Lucien muttered, and Tamlin snarled at him. Lucien just stroked his head, chuckling. “You look like you could a good brush, Tam.” A throwback to that line Feyre had thrown at him. Tamlin couldn’t help but smile at the bittersweet memory. Tamlin knew these woods by heart, so he knew where Elain was going after a few minutes. Elain led them to the pool of starlight, kneeling before it like it was a prayer hearth. “Every court has an origin point, the source of their magic,” Elain explained softly. “This is the origin of Spring.” Lucien enquired, “How in the Cauldron do you know that?” Elain laughed softly. “Exactly, darling. The Cauldron- or rather the Mother- didn’t just gift me the second Sight. She gifted me with knowledge- knowledge about the origins of our world.”

Then abruptly, Elain began to strip. Tamlin looked away out of respect, but not before he saw Lucien turn into a blushing mess. Tamlin laughed to himself. He’d never seen Lucien flustered ever; not in centuries. People got flustered by him because he was so handsome and charming. Elain must be something special. Tamlin felt that tinge of pain again before he suppressed it again. Tamlin didn’t look back until he heard the splash that meant Elain had fully submerged herself in the water. Tamlin shapeshifted back into his High Fae form, watching in amazement as Elain began to glow. Her hair floated above her head, and a golden corona began to surround her. If Nesta was Lady Death, this woman was Lady Life. And she was glowing with it. She continued to glow brighter and brighter until Tamlin had to look away and shield himself with a hand. At last, the light dissipated, and Tamlin looked back at her. “Wow,” he whispered. Lucien only stared at her with a soft smile on his face. Elain smiled back at him before she moved to ascend out of the water. Tamlin closed his eyes, waiting until Elain told him it was safe to look back again. “You can look now,” Elain said. Tamlin opened his eyes and stared at her. “What did you just do?” Elain shrugged, smiling mysteriously. “Let’s see.” Severely nonplussed, Tamlin walked back towards the Spring Court manor. The crunch of the leaves was extremely loud but Tamlin ignored it; he assumed it was his High Lord senses that was able to sense it but something felt…different in the air. Something that had been dead earlier felt brighter. Even the forest felt less silent.

Tamlin walked through the forest clearing and stopped short at the sight before him. “The roses…they’re back.” Tamlin ran towards the roses that had been reduced to nothing but thorns just a half an hour earlier. He savored the floral smell that had been so absent in the air. He bent over and drunk in the roses’ aroma deep like he was a bee. Then he covered his face with his hands and began to sob. “Tam, are you ok?” Lucien’s hand was on his shoulder. “Ok? I’m fucking joyous,” Tamlin choked out, finally getting up and embracing Lucien. “Once again, your connections come to save the day,” Tamlin whispered against him. “Thank you.”

Lucien patted his back before pulling away. “This wasn’t me. This was all my mate.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Tamlin knew Lucien would never take the least bit of credit at the expense of his mate, so he walked towards Elain and clasped her hands in his own. “Thank you,” Tamlin said in a broken whisper. “You are a miracle, and I’m so glad Lucien has a mate as wonderful as you.” Elain beamed. “Lucien has told me a lot about you too. How you saved his life at the border, how you worked so hard to protect your people and for the freedom of others.” Tamlin blushed. “I’m obviously not very good at it, considering what happened.” Elain’s smile faded. “That is more an err on my sister’s part than your own.” Tamlin’s shoulders slumped.

“What’s the point of fixing Spring anyway? No one wants to live here with me as a High Lord.” Elain only shrugged. “I think you’d be surprised, Tamlin.” Lucien cleared his throat. “So, my mate’s sister, Nesta, has decided to leave the Night Court and she’s brought some companions with her. They’ve spent a long time sheltered in an underground library because they’re sexual assault victims, but this would be the perfect kind of place for them to get more used to the outdoors. Mostly empty, peaceful, and with a High Lord like you.” Tamlin knew his face was red as a tomato as he stammered, “I’m not- I can’t even- but-“ “There’s more,” Lucien interrupted. “They’ve all agreed to help you rebuild. They only ask for one thing in return.” Tamlin looked down. This was too good to be true. “What is it?” Just then, Nesta Archeron strode into Tamlin’s field of vision, seemingly out of nowhere. Since when could she winnow? Following behind her were an assortment of ladies dressed like priestesses and Illyrian women.

“Well, we’ve heard you’re a great warrior and considering I left the Night Court, we are, unfortunately, down an instructor. Care for the job?” Tamlin’s jaw dropped. Last time he’d seen the stone-cold eldest sister of Feyre’s, she’d sent that death finger at him. Now here she was, eyebrow raised, asking if he’d teach a group of girls she appeared to be the leader of how to fight. “It’s not as if I have anything better to do,” Tamlin answered, but inside he was glowing. He had some value in this world! “Excellent. Congratulations, High Lord. You’re the new instructor of the Valkyries.” Tamlin blinked. The Valkyries had unfortunately died off ages ago. “We’re reviving them,” a red-haired girl at Nesta’s side perked up before Tamlin could say anything. Tamlin bowed to them. “Well then, I’m honored to be part of their resurgence.” Lucien embraced Tamlin, who had tears in his eyes. “Do you have to go now?” Tamlin complained. He knew he sounded like such a whiny brat, but he couldn't help it: he missed Lucien, selfish as it was. Lucien only rolled his eyes. “Stop being so clingy, Tam. You have Nesta and the Valkyries to help you fix this place. You won’t be alone.” Tamlin stamped his food. “But none of them are you!” Lucien just smirked, shaking his head. “I’ll come and visit, Tamlin, relax. But let me tell you, I’m so tired of everything right now. I mean, first there was killing Beron, then it was freeing Vassa from Koschei-“

“Hold up. What?” Tamlin demanded. What the hell had happened? What had Tamlin missed in his depressed state? Lucien winked. “Later, Tam. I’ll tell you everything. But for now…I need a fucking vacation.”

Tamlin stared at the spot where Lucien and Elain had winnowed away. “You alright?” a voice came from behind him. Tamlin turned around, surprised to find Nesta’s silver-blue eyes so close. So beautiful- so much like her sister. Tamlin managed to master himself enough to say, “Yes. Thank you…Nesta.” She smiled, and Tamlin blinked. He’d only ever seen her glare or smirk; it was jarring to see a genuine smile on her face. “You have a pretty smile,” Tamlin said without thinking. Then mentally face palmed himself. Nesta just smiled wider. “Thank you.” Then she walked away, Tamlin staring after her. That night was one of the best he’d had in a long time. He no longer felt worthless living in emptiness. He had a life, a purpose. Something to do. His beautiful roses were restored. All was not lost. He was Tamlin the High Lord of Spring, and he wasn’t going to sit here and waste away into nothing. Tamlin got up and got ready to teach the Valkyries a thing or two even the Illyrians didn’t know. For @achaotichuman happy birthday, sweetheart.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #elucien #pro elucien #tamlin #pro tamlin #nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron #anti nessian #fanfic

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acourtofthought · 1 year ago

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How do you think Lucien is going to react to having Helion as a father? I know everyone is excited about it and thinks Lucien will be happy to find a different father but I just don't feel like he's going to be happy with Helion. At. All. Not after what his mother has gone through; I know it's not exactly Helion's fault, but I think Lucien will attribute Helion as a major cause for much of his mother's abuse. Also, she waited for him and he didn't come for her. Also, I don't think Helion is going to be a "cool dad;" I'm not sure how he's going to feel about having a son who grew up in the Autumn Court. How do you think Helion will react? Anyway, this is why I'm more invested in Lucien and Eris repairing their relationship.

I definitely don't think Lucien is going to run straight into Helions arms, thankful for a decent father figure at last. I imagine he'd have too many unanswered questions at first (not to mention they haven't been written as having any sort of relationship in the series so far, even one outside father / son).

Did Helion know Lucien was his son? Did he suspect?

If so then Lucien would definitely want to know why he never attempted to have a relationship with him.

Though I can't imagine SJM would write a scenario where Helion knew and didn't have a valid reason for keeping his distance, she has spoken of being weirdly obsessed with Helions character so I don't imagine she'd want to turn him into the bad guy especially when Lucien already has one of those in his life in Beron.

I think eventually, we're going to see Helion and Lucien getting along well. They're too similar in their sassy personalities with a flare to their style not to find common ground and recognize a likeness to one another. But Lucien is grown now, he doesn't need a dad to play catch with, so any relationship that does form isn't going to look the same as what it would have had he been much younger. Maybe there will be a scene where Helion offers him advice on his situation with Elain, about not giving up on hope when it comes to the right female and that will be a representation of their bonding, something Helion personally has experience with and could share his wisdom on. However I think we'll see them connect on a more equal level rather than Helion suddenly morphing into Super Dad trying to constantly guide Lucien without Lucien asking for his advice.

I hope Lucien doesn't blame Helion for what happened with his mother because Helion was no more capable of stopping Beron than Lucien and Eris were.

Lucien is centuries old at this point. Not as old as Rhys and the others in the IC but maybe 300? 400?

The LoA was twenty when she married Beron and had many sons before Lucien. Helion only came into power about 40 years ago while UTM as Amarantha killed the HL of Day and most of their family when they tried to rebel.

That means when the LoA married Beron, Helion had no idea he'd become a High Lord and that means he may not have had the power to stop Beron who already had internal ties to power. It also sounds like neither Helion or the LoA had any chance in what appears to have been her arranged marriage.

I also think it's important to remember that the LOA chose to stay.

The LoA did not reach out for help, she did not request someone free her from Berons shackles.

So who was Helion to interfere in her marriage? What he thinks she should do and what he'd like to do doesn't trump what she herself did.

I actually have had personal experience (not my own but family members) who are victims of domestic abuse and I can attest to the fact that you can't force someone to leave unless they want to. You can offer them all the help and a place of safety but there is truly no interfering and insisting they leave if they themselves aren't ready to walk away.

I do agree that I'd also love to see Eris and Lucien repair their relationship if there is some valid reason behind the years Eris spent treating Lucien cruelly. I think that's the direction SJM is heading, she's laid a few hints that maybe he could have been protecting Lucien in a way that wouldn't raise Berons suspicions but we still haven't gotten a true explanation for it all.

Really, I want all the relationships for Lucien.

I want to see him reconnecting with his brother so he has one decent sibling.

I want to see Helion and Lucien working towards a relationship, in whatever capacity that is.

I want he and Tamlin to find peace with one another even if they don't end up being extremely close.

I would like Az to finally acknowledge Lucien is a worthy male and for the two to move forward as friendly acquaintances.

I want him to be blissfully happy with his mate.

He's spent so many years alone and there would be nothing more satisfying than seeing him surrounded by love in every court.

#pro lucien vanserra

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vulpes-fennec · 2 years ago

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Love on Water Lilies 🪷 (Ch 2)

Summary: Prince Lucien Vanserra of the Autumn Kingdom is all play, no work. Elain Archeron, a waitress and aspiring restaurant owner in the city of Colibri, is all work, no play. Caught in a larger scheme of politics and war, Lucien and Elain are turned into frogs. Will Elain get her restaurant back? Will Lucien ever become Fae again?

For @elucienweekofficial Day 7: AU (Princess and the Frog)

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Elain screamed, stumbling backwards. The frog on the bannister had just spoken to her.

“Princess!” Oh, she wasn’t hallucinating; that definitely came from the frog. Elain fled into Vassa’s bedroom.

“Stay away from me!” she shrieked. Elain’s hand was on Vassa’s door when the frog called out to her again.

“I’m sorry, princess! It’s me, Prince Lucien of Autumn!” Prince Lucien? Elain paused.

The frog clumsily hopped onto Vassa’s bed, peering up at her. It was about the size of Elain’s two hands put together, with mossy green skin. Indeed, it was a frog with mismatched eyes—one russet brown the other golden—and a scar running down its face. She supposed he did resemble Prince Lucien in that aspect.

“What? How? Why are you a frog?” Elain sputtered.

“I do not know,” the creature confessed. The frog had the prince’s voice as well, silky smooth and low. “One minute, I am a handsome, charming prince enjoying the party. The next thing I know, I eat a beignet and I become a frog with webbed hands and feet!” He flopped onto his back and lifted a webbed foot.

“Get that away from me!” Elain tried to flick the frog—no, Lucien—away. “You must have been cursed.”

“And you can break that curse.” The frog prince stared up meaningfully at Elain, his large eyes insistent.

“How?”

“With a kiss,” Lucien replied matter-of-factly, as if the answer was plain as day. “According to the Autumn Kingdom’s folk tales, that’s what transforms animals back into the Fae.”

Elain blanched. “Kiss you?”

“Oh, but you will enjoy it, I assure you,” Lucien winked his russet eye. “All females enjoy kissing me. Many of them beg for more.” He frowned when Elain made a gagging sound. “Alright, if kissing an autumn prince is not enough, I may be inclined to offer you…ah…some reward, if you help break this curse.”

Elain perked up. This was it: a chance to get her dream back!

“Give me the riverfront pavilion you just bought today.”

“Pfft, that old thing?” Lucien waved a webbed hand.

“It’s not just any old thing!” Elain bristled. “Of course, to a rich prince like you, dropping hundreds of gold marks must be a daily occurrence.”

Lucien folded his arms across his chest. “It is,” he deadpanned.

Elain glared at the tiny creature. The gall of Lucien to assume she would enjoy kissing him! Yet a small part of Elain knew that she wouldn’t have minded kissing Lucien if he was in his Fae form. She shoved that thought away, for it was at odds with the fact that he was pampered and arrogant. In fact, the frog’s flippant attitude towards money only made her furious.

“Well, I don’t actually need to help you,” she hissed. “I can walk away, let you live the rest of your life as a frog.”

Lucien threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Princess, you are quite good at haggling. And because I am a generous prince, I will offer you the value of the building in cash as well. Hmm? How does that sound?”

“Just one kiss,” Elain whispered, more to herself. A shimmering gold tattoo suddenly appeared, the delicate swirls wrapping around her upper left arm like a golden armband.

“Just one kiss,” Lucien agreed, puffing his chest as he stood up on his hind legs. A miniature version of Elain’s gold tattoo sparkled into existence on his right upper arm.

Elain grimaced at the sight of Lucien’s puckered frog lips. Gods, this is so humiliating. Do it for the restaurant, Elain, she told herself. You can give a pesky frog prince a quick kiss for it. Elain knelt in front of Vassa’s bed and leaned in. She closed her eyes, forcing down the urge to gag again…and kissed Prince Lucien.

Kissing a frog was cold. And slimy.

Elain pulled back as fast as she could, but not before something sharp as a knife cut through her body. The sensation stripped her down layer by layer, pooling bile under her tongue. Elain’s legs buckled underneath her, the gown slipping off her shoulders as if it had suddenly enlarged in size.

“Princess?” Lucien’s voice was muffled, and sounded very far away. Elain opened her eyes and gasped. She was enveloped by fabric that was the exact shade of purple as her ballgown. Damn it all, the sheer weight of it on top of her was suffocating. Elain made to push the fabric off, but froze.

Her hands had been replaced by sticky webbed fingers.

“Oh, what did you do to me?” she cried, stumbling out of the dress on unsteady frog feet. Gone were her soft curves, her golden skin. Staring down, all Elain could see was a slightly pudgy belly and pale green skin, every inch of it moist with slime. “I’m a frog!”

Lucien hopped down from the bed, blinking slowly. “You’re a frog,” he repeated.

Elain began to tremble with panic. Her eyes were positively massive, practically bulging out of her head. She could feel her mouth stretching across her entire face, she had the tremendous urge to sit back on her haunches like a dog.

“It’s all your fault!” she cried. “I am now an ugly, slimy frog!”

“It is not slime, it is mucus,” Lucien corrected her. “And what do I know? The Autumn folk tales say curses are resolved by kissing princesses.”

“I’m not a princess,” Elain replied, confusion rising in her voice.

“You’re not?” Lucien was stunned. “Are you not Vassa La Bouff?”

“You attend Vassa’s party and you don’t even know what she looks like? I am Vassa’s friend, Elain Archeron!”

Lucien’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Elain Archeron. A pleasure to finally meet—” the frog prince stumbled, falling flat on his face. “—You.”

“Are you drunk?” she cried, hauling Lucien to his feet. The prince shrugged her off and mumbled something unintelligible. Something about red wine. “Gods, you are impossible.”

Elain was so busy trying to reacquaint herself with her new body that she did not realize Lucien had stumbled off to the balcony until he was leaning precariously between the bannister’s wooden slats.

“Get back here!” Elain tried to run, but promptly tripped over her massive feet. It turned out hopping was significantly more effective than running. She reached the Prince and grabbed him by the arm, but gravity was already doing its work.

“Aaaahhhh!” Elain and Lucien screamed as they fell from the second floor.

“Aaaahhhh!” The La Bouff servant screamed when two green frogs plummeted into the bowl of punch being wheeled out to the ball.

Pineapple. Mango. And premium white rum. These were the notes of flavor that surrounded her as Elain swam towards the surface, finding a still-tipsy Lucien paddling around.

“Can you get a hold of yourself?” Elain exasperatingly grabbed Lucien, who was inhaling large gulps of punch, and dragged him out of the bowl.

“Get those frogs!” A familiar shrill tone grated on Elain’s nerves. She would know that voice anywhere. Briallyn. Sure enough, the beady-eyed female was hurtling straight towards her, large jar in hand.

What the hell? Elain knew that Vassa would rather eat dirt than invite Briallyn to a Mardi Gras ball…which meant Briallyn had snuck in. And was likely up to no good.

Elain shoved Lucien off the table just in time. Briallyn swiped for empty air, and let out a frustrated screech. The witch dove for them again, faster this time. In that moment, Elain knew frog hopping would be futile compared to the Fae’s agility and strength. She needed to find a better way to escape.

Briallyn colliding head-first into the bowl of punch bought Elain enough time to half-hop, half-drag Lucien into the shadows.

“Where’s Jurian,” Lucien slurred as Elain pulled him into a bush. “Ooh, pulling me into a secret location, are you? Maybe if we kiss again—”

“Shut up,” Elain hissed. “You slimy frog.” Peeking through the leaves, she could see Briallyn whirling around, looking for two runaway frogs. It was only a matter of time before she pinpointed their location. Her tiny frog heart was pounding so hard, Elain was sure it would burst. She had never been in such a predicament before. Being hunted…her existence had suddenly become a life or death scenario.

“This is what you’re going to do.” Elain swiveled Lucien’s head towards the colored faelight lanterns hanging from the trees. Real flame was used in the absence of faelight, so Elain was confident the lantern cloth was fireproof. “See those lanterns up there? You’re going to use your fire powers to turn that into a hot air balloon.” She glanced at Lucien, who was still swaying on his feet with a glazed expression. “You still have your fire powers, don’t you?”

“Of course, princess,” Lucien mumbled. The frog prince steadied himself on a branch, took a deep breath, and snapped his fingers.

The entire bush promptly burst into an inferno. Elain cried out, dropping low to the ground as hot flames licked the air where her head had been seconds ago. Attendees screamed, alerting Briallyn to the flaming bush.

“Move, move, move!” Elain and Lucien stumbled out of the bush, coughing madly. Gods, did her skin feel uncomfortably parched. “You idiot! Why did you have to set the whole damn bush on fire?”

“I am drunk! You wanted confirmation, well now you have it!”

“Hurry up!” Elain urged. She snagged one of the beaded necklaces off the ground, laying it across her body like a shoulder bag. The gold beads weighed heavily as she scaled the tree, rough bark scraping her soft skin.

Miraculously, Lucien managed to balance on a branch and dislodge the lantern from the string it hung on. Elain laced the beaded necklace through the wires criss-crossing at the lantern’s base.

She glanced down to gauge Briallyn’s distance, which was a mistake. They were a terrifying distance from the ground—a fall would mean imminent death. Elain looped the beaded necklace around her waist twice for added measure, and repeated the action with Lucien. The frog prince was leaning precariously against the lantern, so drunk that he did not bother putting up a fight when Elain commanded, “fly, now!”

Thankfully, Lucien’s flame was smaller this time, a gentle, luminous light that buoyed the lantern with its heat. Elain closed her eyes and let out a noise of fear when they lifted higher and higher.

“It’s alright, you can hold on tighter to me if you are scared,” Lucien whispered in her ear when they drifted beyond the La Bouff mansion grounds.

“Suddenly, I am no longer scared,” Elain retorted, squirming where the sides of their bodies touched. “Besides, you should be holding on more than me. You’re the one who’s drunk.” Golden lights from numerous Mardi Gras celebrations passed below them, as their little contraption swiftly journeyed across Colibri’s busy streets. The celebratory Fae below paid little heed to a floating lantern above them, with two small frogs clinging onto the contraption. Elain wished she was part of the celebratory crowd, rather than…well, whatever this was.

“Can we land?” Elain asked anxiously, gripping onto the necklace for dear life. The wind had gusted them past Colibri’s outskirts, straight into the Bog of Oorid’s blanket of darkness.

“No, we go where the wind takes us.” Lucien threw an arm out into the open air. “Onto the next adventure!” The prince crowed drunkenly.

Elain gritted her teeth. “Can we please land?” she pressed again. “The bog is not safe for frogs like us.” The winds picked up, making the lights of Colibri grow farther and farther away.

“Frogs like us,” Lucien chuckled, more to himself. “Us like frogs. Frog, bog. Froggy boggy.”

The flame above them flickered, dropping them several inches in elevation. “Shit, shit, shit,” Elucien muttered. She had not anticipated the prince passing out, taking his power with him. “Get back up!” she screamed, gripping onto Lucien’s slippery shoulders. “Wake up! Lucien, wake up!”

It was no use. Lucien slumped backwards, long pink tongue lolling out. The flame flickered one last time, then guttered completely. Wind whistled in her ears as Elain began to free fall. This is the end, Elain feared, squeezing her eyes shut. I am going to die as a frog.

They crashed through trees, the process of getting banged up slowing the splat impact they made with brackish bog water. The frog’s third eyelid slipped down reflexively, allowing Elain to free herself from the necklace with several expert twists. At least the water woke Lucien up. The prince flailed, coughing and sputtering as Elain dragged him to shore by the necklace.

“I’m awake,” Lucien announced, fumbling the necklace off his waist. “What the hell just happened?”

“What the hell just happened, indeed,” Elain grumbled. From the looks of it, they were on a small delta, the beach sandy with silt and the area flourishing with plant matter. Predators were nowhere to be found, but being so small, Elain was not taking any chances.

“Look—shelter!” Lucien pointed to a hollowed stump at the water’s edge, the vertical structure and root system all that was left of a once-massive tree. “Let’s go check it out.” Elain watched the prince closely as he staggered towards the stump, gripping onto a tendril of vine to haul himself up the bark. If he was eaten by a large rodent, so be it.

“All clear!” Lucien called out through the gaping hole.

It was dry inside, but a tad too cramped. Elain huddled on a patch of moss, missing the soft blankets of her cot dearly. While there was no comfortable way to sleep as a frog, Elain did the best she could: tucking her gangly legs underneath and cushioning her head between webbed hands. Even then, Elain was mere inches from Lucien Vanserra. This was not how she expected her day to end.

“Goodnight, princess.” He sounded tipsy still, from the delayed syllables of his words.

“No thanks to you,” Elain bit out, turning away.

It was officially the worst day of her life, thanks to Prince Lucien Vanserra. Ousted from the jambalaya contest podium, losing her future cafe, then being turned into a gods damned frog… Elain yawned. Her resentment towards the prince had driven her adrenaline rush even higher, but now that she was on a patch of moss, she was tired. And crashing hard. Drowsiness settled over her like a blanket, inviting her to sleep. Oh, delicious sleep…

A loud retching sound jolted her awake. Elain opened one froggy eye irritably. Lucien was leaning out the little “window” of the tree trunk and vomiting. Elain groaned and closed her eyes again. Perhaps this would all be one bad dream when she woke up…

***Jurian***

“Aaughh,” Jurian groaned. A hundred sledgehammers pounded his head when he cracked open his eyes. He was definitely hungover…and still at the La Bouff mansion. In a bed, apparently.

Whose bed was he in? A glance to the left revealed a mop of vibrant orange hair, three shades more yellow than Lucien’s red, splayed across a pink pillow. A Fae female, with a button nose, full lips, smooth brown shoulders—smooth shoulders?!?

A simple shift of his legs under fluffy blankets reminded Jurian that he was naked, too.

Cauldron, how the hell did I end up here?

The memories of the night prior began trickling in: eating, drinking, and dancing with various females whose names he could not remember. A female had challenged Jurian to a dance-off, her brilliant sapphire eyes drawing him in. The events between the competition and the bedroom were hazy—he didn’t even remember who won. But Jurian definitely remembered the way she pushed him against the wall, devouring his mouth. And the way he pulled her down onto the bed, a tangle of clothes and limbs that devolved into passionate fucking.

While this sort of debauchery was a common occurrence whenever he went out with Lucien, Jurian was—shit. Where was Lucien?

Just then, the female’s eyes blinked open, revealing the same brilliant sapphire shade from last night. Jurian’s mouth went a little dry.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her morning voice low and seductive.

“Who are you?” Jurian blurted out. He cringed internally, kicking himself at his lack of smoothness.

“Vassa La Bouff, of course.” The female tucked her hand under her cheek and snuggled deeper into the pillow.

How the hell did I end up sleeping with Vassa La Bouff? Jurian’s brain worked slowly, the bet he made with Lucien coming back in bits and pieces. Right, Lucien had turned into a frog. If Lucien did not end up finding Vassa last night…then where the hell did he go? And, more concerningly, what happened to him?

“Shit,” Jurian muttered, getting up. He slipped out of bed, fumbling for his pants.

“Well, that’s a reaction I’ve never gotten from a male before.” Vassa sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her lips pressed into a disappointed frown.

“Do you remember speaking to Prince Lucien last night?” Jurian asked, his shift already half buttoned up. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair.

“Nope. Why?”

“I’m his friend, Jurian. I need to find him right now.”

“Oh, shit.” Vassa now jumped out of bed, and Jurian tried to avert his eyes at her naked, curving form. Vassa donned a silk robe and fluffy pink slippers. “That reminds me, I was looking for my friend, Elain Archeron.”

“Fine, we’ll look for them together.” Jurian finished buckling his pants and strode out the door. The La Bouff mansion was a grand, sweeping thing, filled with stately portraits and exquisite furniture. Nevermind the eye-boggling stares from Vassa’s house staff as he did a semi-walk of shame out into the garden.

The remnants of the ball last night littered the lawn: clothed tables, crumbs and dried puddles of wine everywhere, and lanterns still hanging from the trees. “Lucien,” Jurian whispered loudly. No frog came hopping into view. “Lucien!” Jurian wandered around the back, looking for any sign of the prince.

“Elain!” Vassa’s voice rang out as she hurried out, still dressed in her robe. “Elain, where are you?”

“Lucien!” Jurian got down on his knees and scoured under the tables. Nothing.

“I can’t find her.” Vassa’s voice was pitched with concern. “The servants just gave me a telegram from Nesta this morning, saying Elain hadn’t returned home.”

Gods, where could Lucien possibly be? Jurian’s stomach sank with each passing second. Wretched guilt was crowding out any rational thought, the sun was too bright, he was parched. He shouldn’t have left Lucien alone, shouldn’t have been sleeping with Vassa La Bouff while his friend was being actively pursued by some crazy female.

Vassa was still talking, “...she has golden brown hair, brown eyes, and is taller than me. I had left her in my room to get ready for the ball and—”

“Wait. She was in your room while you were at the ball?”

“Yes?”

“Purple ball gown. Purple slippers. Rose gold tiara.” Fuck. The bet he made with Lucien last night was coming back to Jurian in bits and pieces. And as far-fetched it may be, he had a slight idea of what might have happened.

“You know something, don’t you?” Vassa murmured, going still. “What happened to Elain?” Jurian looked around furtively before grasping Vassa by the wrist and pulling her behind the garden shed.

“Alright, what I’m going to tell you, you are sworn to secrecy.” Vassa nodded, her mouth slightly open. Jurian took a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to say it.

“Lucien was turned into a frog last night, shortly after eating a beignet. According to him, a waitress with pale skin, black hair, and black eyes had given him the beignet. She was trying to catch him. He had gone to find you, to see if you could reverse the curse with a spell or with a kiss.”

“A kiss? Why would a kiss reverse a curse?” Surprisingly, Vassa did not bat an eye at the news of Lucien being turned into a frog. Perhaps turning into animals was a normal part of her witch academics.

“Isn’t that how the old legends go? Kissing a princess?”

“Yes, because they’re legends,” Vassa sighed. “And a Mardi Gras princess? Puh-leeze. The waitress you described sounds like Briallyn, but she’s definitely not part of my household staff.” Her eyes flashed angrily.

“I take it you two know each other,” Jurian replied dryly.

“Yes, we hate each other, actually. School rivals, you know how it goes. She’s a real piece of work.” Vassa clenched her fists and ground her teeth. “I wouldn’t put it past her to intentionally fuck up my life.”

“Alright, alright. But Briallyn is not the end of it. Since you said Elain was in your bedroom, wearing a tiara, it’s possible that Lucien tried to kiss her.”

Vassa stared at Jurian blankly for a half second before she began to laugh. “As if!” the female wheezed. “Elain does not like Lucien, and I doubt she would go around kissing frogs, especially frogs who claim to be Prince Lucien.”

“Alright but hypothetically speaking…could a curse have a double effect and turn a second individual into a frog?” The laughter died from Vassa’s eyes.

“Now that you’re saying that…it is possible. And I recall there was a commotion last night, when we lost one of our lanterns because two frogs were clinging onto it.” Her eyes grew wide. “But there’s no way Elain would have kissed Lucien. Unless…”

“Where did the lantern go?” Jurian demanded. “Do you remember?”

“In the direction of the Bog of Oorid…” Vassa murmured, concern edging her voice. She stared off into the distance, before snapping out of her thoughts and staring Jurian down. “Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

“Go where? With you?” Jurian sputtered. Vassa glanced at him, tucking a strand of orange hair behind her pointed hair with a wry grin.

“To look for our friends! Aren’t two heads better than one?”

***Vassa***

The male—Jurian—did not seem to hail from nobility, from the way he consumed the croissant she handed him like a starving dog, yet he claimed to be Prince Lucien’s friend. He towered a good head-and-a-half above her, broad shoulders and all, and she had to hurry to match his urgent pace.

Bored of waiting around for Prince Lucien to find her, Vassa had taken one look at Jurian’s brooding expression and decided he needed to lighten up. Taking him to her bedroom so brazenly in front of her parents was a drunken decision for sure, but she would deal with the embarrassment later.

The servant’s uniform he borrowed—a canvas shirt, black vest, and loose brown pants—snug fitted his muscled body. A muscled body…perhaps Jurian was Lucien’s bodyguard. Must be a shit bodyguard, Vassa snickered internally, if Prince Lucien was turned into a frog and lost on his watch.

Vassa’s chuckle morphed into a sinking feeling of guilt—how was she any better? Gods, she should have been making sure Elain had the best Mardi Gras ball of her life, yet she was off canoodling with Jurian instead. At least I’m looking for her now, Vassa told herself.

Catching a steamboat upriver would be the fastest way into the smaller bayou towns, she had claimed. But when Vassa and Jurian arrived at the docks, they were greeted with chaos. Barges were being stocked with weapons and supplies. There was an increased presence of Summer Kingdom warriors patrolling the area, keeping a sharp eye on Colibri’s citizens.

What will King Nostrus do, given his alliance with the Seasonal Kingdoms? I heard the western seas are most unideal for warships this time of year…Have you not heard? Vanserra is marching on Rhodes from land. A group of elderly fae gossiped in a corner while young children scurried furtively around the Summer warriors.

“King Beron Vanserra has declared war on King Helion Spellcleaver?” Jurian squinted at the stack of newspapers on the stand.

“According to sources close to Autumn and Day’s courts, Queen Daphne Vanserra had an affair with King Helion Spellcleaver decades ago. It is alleged that King Spellcleaver is the true father of Prince Lucien Vanserra,” Vassa read aloud. She whipped her head towards Jurian. “Did you know about this?”

Jurian had gone white as a sheet. “No,” he replied, snatching up an issue and scanning it furiously. “Lucien doesn’t even know. He has always thought Beron was his father.”

“Let me see.” Vassa squeezed under his arm and scanned the pages herself. The brush of her bare shoulder against his body made her feel a bit light-headed. “King Spellcleaver is reportedly unaware he had an heir all this time.”By the Mother…Lucien is a prince of Day, not Autumn.”

“The Autumn Queen has sought refuge in the Day Kingdom, citing abusive behavior from her husband. Prince Lucien was last seen in the Summer Kingdom city of Colibri.”

Suddenly, the increased presence of warriors and shoring up of supplies made more sense. Who knew what King Vanserra would do? The Autumn King was cold and ruthless…perhaps he would send his army into Colibri to kill his rival’s only heir.

“I think Lucien being turned into a frog is related to this,” Jurian muttered darkly. The steamboat’s deafening horn blared over the hubbub. “Come on, the boat is leaving soon.”

***Lucien***

The winter morning came bright, early, and warm. Golden sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tree stump, the air filled with trills and chirps of marsh birds. Lucien awoke feeling groggy, his skin dehydrated. Right. He had thrown up at least three times last night. Who knew frogs would have such a low alcohol tolerance?

Lucien crawled out of the tree stump on much more steadier feet. The colored lantern was a sodden mess in the water from where they landed. Several hops away, Elain Archeron had fashioned a raft from sticks and pliable reeds.

Lucien remembered she was a smaller frog, with delicate limbs and agile reflexes. But in the daylight, Elain’s skin was clearly a paler green shade than Lucien’s rich mint green. Her sandy brown stomach and the dark green speckles running down the sides of her body were also more noticeable. And her eyes retained their brown, doe-like aura even in frog form.

Those wide eyes narrowed with disdain once she spotted him. “Finally awake?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. Lucien stood up on his hind feet—the habit was hard to break—to perform an exaggerated yawn and stretch.

“Good morning, princess,” he replied sarcastically. “Don’t you know a prince like me needs his beauty sleep?” Lucien hopped down onto the raft.

“We need to get back to Colibri and find Vassa.” Elain picked up a long stick and began to push the raft, albeit a bit clumsily. “And stop calling me princess.”

Lucien plopped down on his back, tucking his hands behind his head and savoring the morning sun. Winter was only a name in the Summer Kingdom—every day was warm here. “What’s wrong with being called princess?”

“First of all, you’re saying that with sarcasm. Secondly, I don’t want to be associated with spoiled, rich princes like you.”

“Spoiled?” Lucien was flabbergasted. Rich, yes, but he did not consider himself spoiled. Beron was tough on his four sons, type of parent who doled out punishment rather than gifts. “Most females would love to spend a day out on the water with me.”

“We aren’t relaxing ‘out on the water’, Lucien,” Elain hissed. “We’ve been turned into frogs, all because of you!”

“Lucien? Not even Your Highness or Prince Lucien?” The prince placed a webbed hand on his chest with mock aghast. “Oh, the disrespect.”

“Oh, and you’re arrogant too. Did you scorn Briallyn as a lover? Perhaps this is her revenge.”

Lucien scoffed, “I assure you, I have never seen that female before in my life! I have no idea why she would decide to turn me into a frog.”

“Maybe it’s because you are a spoiled, arrogant, rich, party prince,” he heard Elain mutter under her breath.

Lucien raised a nonexistent brow. “Ah, so do you have a prejudice against all princes? I’ll have to have a word with Prince Tarquin the next time we hang out. He had such kind words to say about you…such a shame it was not reciprocated.”

“Not all princes…just you,” Elain replied coldly. She began rowing with renewed vigor, splashing water into Lucien’s face.

Lucien sighed, choosing to stand up. This female—a frog—had a bit of fire in her spirit. He stopped Elain’s rowing with a firm grip on the stick.

“At this rate, you’ll be attracting all the predators in the bayou.” He offered her a smile that was sure to irritate her. “Allow me.”

Elain handed him the stick and stomped off to the edge of the raft, as far away from him as possible.

“Are you going to tell me why you don’t like me, or are you going to be sulking the rest of the way back to Colibri?” Lucien asked. Elain folded her gangly green arms across her chest.

“I was third place at the jambalaya contest until you showed up last minute.”

“Oh.” Just as he had suspected.

“And then you bought the property that I’ve been eyeing for the last six months,” Elain continued. “It’s where I wanted to open my cafe and you just took it from me. Like the prize money I so desperately needed to purchase the property.”

“I see.” Well, that was new. Tarquin made it sound like Elain Archeron’s first restaurant was bound to open any day, but it seemed like that wasn’t the case anymore. Lucien frowned slightly: what happened, to cause Elain such a setback?

“And then you turned me into a frog. Before I could dance at Vassa’s ball, too! And I’m supposed to participate in more Mardi Gras cooking contests today, to win more money, but I can’t do that now, can I?” Elain sighed.

It all made sense then, why Elain felt so adamant in calling him spoiled and rich. He had taken two things from her—three, if they included the fact that she now existed as a frog.

“I’m sorry about the jambalaya contest,” was all Lucien could say. He meant it, too. “It was not done intentionally. I…I only wanted to participate in the Mardi Gras festivities.” Elain’s expression softened, her big brown eyes blinking with surprise. Lucien bet she didn’t expect “spoiled rich” princes like him to apologize—ever.

“I…accept your apology,” she responded, looking away quickly.

“I’ll give you the prize money,” Lucien added. For a moment, he wondered if she would take offense, since it was the second time he offered to give her money. But Elain sat up straighter, more alert.

“And the riverfront pavilion?” Lucien was silent for a moment. He’d purchased the property in hopes of renovating it for his mother. Beron’s abusive tendencies had ramped up in the last few months to the point where a new bruise or scratch would appear on his mother’s pale white skin every other day.

Eris had initially raged against Beron for those transgressions, and was promptly given ten lashes on the back. The Vanserra princes were powerless against Beron within the Forest House, but…perhaps a secret residence in another kingdom would grant his mother some safety should she ever decide to break her marriage vows. That was what Lucien had hoped, and his mother’s fondness for sunny days and bustling scenes was what drove him to select the riverfront pavilion.

“We’re still frogs, are we not?”

“But I kissed you!” Elain’s brown eyes turned towards him in disbelief.

“My precise words were: if you help break this curse, I will give you the riverfront pavilion. And the cash value of it on top.” Elain glared sullenly at him. Lucien pointed to the golden, swirling band around his upper arm. “The curse is still intact, yes?”

“I take back my acceptance of your apology.”

“Hmm…I don’t think that’s how it works, princess. Hey!” Elain had flicked water onto his ass. She flicked out a long, pink tongue at him in response. “Can’t have you waltzing off on me, Elain, when I don’t know my way back to Colibri.”

“I don’t know my way around the bayou either.”

“Well. I suppose we’re stuck in this together, princess,” Lucien crooned. Another handful of water smacked onto his backside. “And stop splashing me!”

#elucien #elucienweek2023 #elain archeron #Lucien vanserra #jassa

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c-e-d-dreamer · 2 years ago

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I Was Enchanted To Meet You: Part Three

A/N: It's still Wednesday and thus still Day Four of @elucienweekofficial somewhere, right? So we can pretend I'm totally not the worst and super late posting this, right? Aha? In my defense work was a bit crazy and then I went to see the Lion King (the musical) soooooo whoops? I hope everyone still enjoys?

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Lucien

“Alright, you need to leave.”

“What?” Elain asks, blinking those wide, brown eyes of hers and tilting her head.

“I’m sorry, but you need to…” Lucien’s voice trails off, his gaze flitting from the new dress Elain has on to the curtains hanging over the windows just behind her shoulder. What’s left of the curtains. “Did you use my curtains to make a dress?”

“Yes, isn’t it lovely?” Elain answers brightly, not an ounce of shame present in her tone as she twirls around in place. “I just love the pattern.”

Lucien can do nothing but gape at her, can do nothing but blink slowly as Elain continues to smile sweetly like nothing is amiss at all. He’s gone insane. He’s suffered some sort of psychotic break, and this is all just some absurd hallucination. It’s the only explanation.

Lucien closes his eyes and takes a deep, heaving breath. He can feel a hysterical laugh tickling the back of his throat and threatening to burst free. Can feel fires beginning to spark and threatening to spread through his veins, and it takes all of his willpower to douse them. When he opens his eyes again, unsurprisingly, Elain is still there, still smiling sweetly up at him. He hates how much that sight extinguishes those final fires like a soothing balm despite her being the cause of them in the first place.

“Look,” Lucien begins, keeping his voice calm and clutching back to his anger, to the look on Nesta’s face as she left, desperately. “I’ll help you get a car or a bus or a train or hell, even a plane back wherever it is you need to go, but you need to leave, okay? You’ve clearly done enough.”

Elain’s smile starts to slip at that, but Lucien doesn’t have time to hear what she might say in response. He turns on his heel and stalks down the hallway, calling out to inform Willow they’ll be leaving in ten minutes as he passes by her room. When he’s finally behind the safety of his closed bedroom door, Lucien slumps down onto his bed with a sigh and rakes his fingers through his hair. He swipes his phone off the nightstand and dares to send a text to Nesta, but of course, there’s no response.

It’s barely eight in the morning, and already, he’s sure that it’s going to be a long day.

~ * * * ~

When the elevator dings and the doors slide open, Lucien all but herds Elain out of it and toward the glass doors that lead into the offices of the Vanserra firm. Vassa’s head perks up as they step inside, her eyebrows climbing practically to her hairline as she takes in Elain walking beside him.

“Vassa, this is Elain. Elain, Vassa,” Lucien offers when they’re standing in front of the reception desk.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Elain greets, reaching her hand out to shake Vassa’s.

“Likewise,” Vassa answers slowly before turning a bewildered expression toward Lucien, a thousand questions blazing through her eyes.

“I’ll explain later,” Lucien dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Listen, I need you to help Elain get back home. Whatever you need to do, just book her a ticket. Okay? Okay.”

Before Vassa even has a chance to agree, Lucien offers her his best winning smile and walks away, ready for his first meeting of the day. He’s sure Vassa will get him back later, but perhaps Elain’s personality will win her over and ease the sting of the last minute request a bit. He just prays that whatever transportation Vassa books isn’t too expensive, since he’ll clearly be the one paying for it.

Lucien pauses in front of the door that leads into the conference room, taking a moment to gather himself and clear his mind of all thoughts of Elain and his crazy morning. Squaring his shoulders and letting out a quiet huff, he pushes open the doors, ready to take on another round of arguments and hopefully negotiations around this case.

Three hours later and Lucien feels like they’ve finally made some headway on this case. At the very least, there’s less arguing between the couple in question. He and the other lawyer shake hands and agree to draw up their respective papers before leaving the conference room and walking back toward the front lobby of the office.

Elain is still there, sitting on one of the sofas arranged in the seating area and staring at the different fish swimming in the aquarium they have set up there. When Lucien turns his attention toward Vassa, raising an eyebrow in silent question, the redhead merely gestures with her head to encourage him to step closer. Her expression doesn’t seem to promise good news, and it has Lucien frowning. Vassa gestures again with her head, more urgently this time, so Lucien turns and offers a final goodbye to his client, her soon to be ex-husband, and his lawyer.

“What?” Lucien asks when he finally steps over to the front desk. “What is it?”

“Where did you find this girl?” Vassa shoots back instead, chancing a glance toward Elain. “This place she allegedly comes from? Andalasia? It doesn’t exist.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, Lucien, I’m lying,” Vassa says sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. “I called every travel agency I know. Nothing. And when I tried to get more information out of her, she just started talking about a chipmunk that fucking talks.”

“Great,” Lucien sighs, dropping his head down onto the desk in defeat. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Return her where you found her?”

“Very funny. Maybe I can get some more information out of her,” Lucien offers before turning his head back toward Elain and raising his voice. “Elain? Come on. Let’s go get some lunch.”

With a wide smile in his direction, Elain jumps up from her seat, practically floating over to him. He settles a hand on the small of her back to lead her out of the office, pointedly ignoring Vassa’s sarcastic good luck remark as he leads them to the elevators. They step out into the afternoon sunshine and across the street to the park there, Lucien guiding them toward the line of food trucks he knows always set up camp on the other side. He can feel Elain’s eyes on him as they walk, like a brand tingling along the skin of his cheek, but he keeps his own gaze pointedly forward, hands clenched and stuffed deep into his pockets.

“You’re still upset,” Elain notes, finally drawing Lucien’s attention back to her. “Is it about Nesta? She seemed lovely.”

“Well, considering she’s still ignoring my texts…” Lucien comments with a sigh, reaching a hand up and pushing it through the strands of his hair. “I was planning to propose to her, you know, and now I doubt she’ll say yes.”

“A proposal?” Elain practically squeals excitedly. “How romantic. So, Nesta is your true love then?”

Lucien can’t help but laugh at that, at the absurdity of this woman. “True love? There’s no such thing as true love.”

“Yes, there is,” Elain argues, and when Lucien glances toward her, she’s actually scowling. It’s the first time he’s ever seen a negative expression on her face. It’s almost adorable. “Cassian is my true love.”

“Is that so?” Lucien asks dryly. “Tell me about him then. How long have you two been together?”

Elain sighs almost longingly, pressing a hand to her chest. “About two days.”

“You mean it feels like two days because you know each other so well?”

“No, it’s been two days. And tomorrow, it will have been three days.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Fucking?”

“You can’t be serious. And you’re going to marry this man?”

Elain stops walking abruptly, crossing her arms across her chest. “I told you. It’s true love.”

“So you say,” Lucien mutters, slowing his own steps to a stop as well and mirroring her stance.

“I do say. And how long have you known Nesta?”

“About five years.”

“Five years? No wonder she’s upset. I’d be upset if you made me wait that long for a proposal too.”

Lucien’s mouth drops open in shock at the quip before he recovers himself and scoffs. “Because you know everything, do you?”

“Exactly. I do,” Elain tells him primly, continuing walking down the path through the park. “Although, I’d be surprised if Nesta even knew how you feel about her.”

“Trust me, she knows,” Lucien argues, falling back into step with Elain.

“But how?”

“How?”

“How does she know,” Elain begins to sing, twirling in place with her arms outstretched. “You love her?”

“What are you doing?”

“How does she know, she’s yours?”

“Please don’t sing.”

“How does she know that you love her?” one of the buskers in the park jumps in to join, his musical companions playing the tune on their respective instruments.

Lucien frowns, blinking in surprise at this turn of events. “He knows the song too?”

“How do you show her you love her?” Elain continues to sing.

“How does she know that you really, really, truly, love her?” Elain and the busker sing together, much to Lucien’s shock and confusion.

His bewilderment only seems to grow with every passing minute. Despite his best attempts to keep Elain walking through the park, it does nothing to stop her continued singing, and it does even less to deter the other buskers and general park goers from joining in. It seems everyone but him is familiar with this song, and by the time they reach the center of the park, it’s practically an all out, large musical number complete with singing and choreography. If he thought his morning was insane, it clearly has nothing on this.

“That’s how you know he’s your love,” Elain finishes the song, standing atop the ledge of a fountain with her arms reaching up toward the sky.

Lucien can do nothing but stand there and stare as everyone around him breaks out in cheers. Elain hops down from the fountain and flits around, thanking almost every single person individually, a kindness and openness to her that has warmth thrumming deep between Lucien’s ribs, has a smile tugging up his lips as he watches her.

“There’s no way this is real life,” Lucien mutters to himself.

~ * * * ~

Elain

Despite Lucien’s words about her needing to leave earlier in the day, Elain finds herself back at the Vanserra apartment that evening. Though she’d never admit it aloud, she’s quite happy with the turn of events. She’s certainly happy for the opportunity to spend more time with Willow, but even more than that, there’s something about Lucien that’s burrowed deep beneath Elain’s skin, and she’s not sure she minds.

“I found it!” Willow declares loudly.

Willow clambers out of the kitchen pantry, the bag of brown sugar clutched in her hands. She walks back over to Elain, a big smile pulled across her face while she hoists the bag up in offering.

“Perfect. Thank you,” Elain tells her, taking the brown sugar and setting it down beside their other ingredients.

Willow climbs back atop her kitchen stool beside Elain, watching with wide, enraptured eyes as Elain continues to measure out the ingredients they’ll need. Elain lets Willow hold each measuring cup steady before dumping the ingredients into the large mixing bowl, and when everything has been added, she hands over a wooden spoon for Willow to stir it all together.

“Now, we sprinkle some flour on our hands to keep the dough from sticking,” Elain explains, pulling the bag of flour closer again.

Willow holds her hands out expectantly, so Elain picks up some flour and dusts it over the little girl’s hands. She does the same for her own hands then rubs them together to make sure they’re correctly coated, Willow mimicking the same movement. She demonstrates to Willow how to pick up some of the cookie dough and roll it into a ball, and it doesn’t take long before they have lines of cookies ready to be baked on their cookie sheet.

Carefully, Elain pulls open the oven door and slides the cookie sheet inside. Willow hops down from her stool and presses her face against the closed oven door, excited to watch her cookies bake. Elain smiles at the adorable sight, turning to meet Lucien’s gaze in hopes of sharing in the feelings at the little girl’s joy, but instead she finds Lucien watching her and not his daughter. His smile is soft, russet eyes practically glinting beneath the kitchen lights.

“What’s that look for?” Elain asks, her heart suddenly stuttering in her chest.

In the blink of an eye, Lucien’s face smooths out as he shakes his head. “Nothing. Just… you’re good with kids.”

“You say that like that’s surprising.”

“In a way it is. Unfortunately, there are plenty of people who take… issue with having a kid. Especially when it comes to dating.”

“Dating?” Elain questions, sliding into one of the spare kitchen chairs beside Lucien.

“Something us normal people do, instead of marrying after twenty four hours,” Lucien teases, earning a fond eye roll from Elain as she knocks her shoulder against his. “You do some sort of activity, just the two of you. Usually, you go to dinner, but other things work too. And you talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“Anything really. About yourself, about your likes or dislikes, about your hobbies. That sort of thing.”

Elain hums quietly as she thinks about it. Dating. This place she’s ended up certainly is strange and yet so intriguing at the same time. It had been quite startling at first, but, Elain has to admit that she’s slowly grown quite fond of it, grown quite fond of this little family that has shown her such kindness. Perhaps, she’ll figure out a way to bring this dating back to Andalasia.

Perhaps, she can figure out a way for the Vanserra’s to visit Andalasia.

“I think the cookies are done!” Willow announces, turning to peer at Elain and Lucien expectantly.

“Let’s check on them, then,” Elain tells her, standing up and walking over to the oven.

She grabs the set of oven mitts and carefully pulls open the door, the sweet scent of chocolate pouring out and swirling around the kitchen. Elain pulls the grate out and grabs a spatula, lifting up one of the cookies and checking that the bottom is the nice golden brown she’s looking for. With that confirmation, she gives a decided nod, pulling the cookie sheet fully out and placing it atop the stove top to cool.

“Are they done? Can we eat them now?” Willow asks, pressing up onto her toes and trying to see the cookies.

“We have to let them cool first,” Lucien jumps in to say, undeterred when Willow turns her head to pout at him.

“But I want to eat them now.”

“We don’t want to burn our tongues, though,” Elain reminds her placatingly. “Just twenty minutes and they should be good to eat.”

“Fine,” Willow concedes; although the whine to her voice suggests otherwise.

“How about we play a game while we wait? It will make it go by faster,” Lucien offers.

The suggestion has Willow lighting up with a smile again. She goes running out of the kitchen, and when she returns, she has a small box clutched in her hands, setting it down on the kitchen table with a decided thunk. Elain steps closer so she can read the words on the box, black block letters declaring Uno.

“Don’t worry,” Lucien promises, clearly having noted Elain’s expression. “It’s an easy game to learn.”

Thankfully, his assessment of the game is correct, and Elain picks up the rules and how to play quite quickly. She also finds herself excited as they go around and around for each turn. Every time she proudly puts down a wildcard, every time Willow giggles when she puts down a plus four card that Lucien has to deal with, lightness fills Elain all the way down to her toes. She can’t stop smiling, can’t stop that warm, comforting feeling that blooms in her chest and sets up roots in the space between her ribs. Here, in this kitchen, with this little family, it’s so easy, so comfortable, in a way Elain can’t explain yet can’t get enough of.

Elain gasps as Lucien all but slaps down a plus two card, his second of just this round. “You’re cheating.”

Lucien laughs, light and easy, the sound skittering across Elain’s skin until goosebumps flare in its wake. “I am not.”

“How else would you have two of the same card like that?”

“You’re the one that shuffled.”

“Uno,” Willow declares loudly, breaking up their good natured arguing.

“Clearly, it’s not me we need to be worried about,” Lucien teases, earning a giggle from Willow.

Despite Elain and Lucien’s best attempts to thwart her, Willow wins the round, and she decides her prize should be the now cooled cookies. Lucien organizes and packs up the cards, while Elain makes a plate of the cookies. When that’s finished, all three head into the living room, settling on the sofa there with Willow in the middle and the plate of cookies poised on her lap.

“How do they taste?” Elain turns to ask Willow while Lucien turns on the television.

“Yummy,” Willow informs her around a mouthful of cookies.

“Take that, you foul, metal beast!”

Elain’s whole body freezes at the sound of that voice, at that all too familiar voice. She snaps her attention toward the television, just in time to see Cassian. He’s standing atop a bus, his sword stabbed clean through the roof. Elain can do nothing but stare, a niggling ringing starting to take up home in her ears. She barely even registers the shocked sound that escapes her.

“What?” Lucien asks, the concern clear in his tone. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Cassian.”

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @unlikelypersonalknight1 @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone

#elucien #elucienweek2023 #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fic #elain x lucien #elain and lucien #enchanted au #my fic

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

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We bleed tonight IV

Previous chapter

a/n well I return from the dead to give you the last and final chapter of this unexpected series. What a journey it has been huh...

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Adapting to Day Court was quite a challenge. The months passed, but you felt nothing but an imposter. You knew you were safe, but no matter what you did, you just felt off. Afraid that the peace and quiet would be ripped away from you any minute. Still shivering at the sound of footsteps and at the shadows draping over corners of the room.

Helion, as much as he tried, didn't feel like a father to you. You appreciated that he never pushed it. Nor did he expect either of you to call him father. He was attentive and always showed up for all the meals. There was no forced bonding. If the conversation didn't flow, Helion never pushed it. Yet you had caught his hopeful eyes more than once. Watched him lean in and stagger back out of a hug. He yearned to have his kids back, but time had worked against him.

Helion talked endlessly about your mother. Madelain was a part of the conversation almost always, and it didn't surprise you, considering that he, Eris, and Lucien had been working on getting her out of Autumn. And back to where she always belonged: in her mate's arms. It was fascinating hearing Helion talk of her as if she were everything. As if all those years apart had done nothing but ignite more love between them. And you truly couldn't help but wonder if that's what a true bond felt like. Something that can't be ripped apart no matter what. No matter the distance. No matter the anger. Wrong choices. Pain caused. Always there. Always bounding two souls.

Your body hit a firm muscle wall, causing you to quickly draw your head up. "You're distracted, my lady", the familiar voice said, holding onto your hands to steady you. "My apologies. Head's all over…", You moved your hands quickly over your face, gathering your thoughts. Bringing yourself back to reality. The male smiled; his long black hair frown into a messy bun, and a smile painted his lips. "Could I offer you a walk through the gardens? Fresh air might help", he said gently, his hand suddenly moving to twist your curly hair around his fingers. Your face flushed crimson as you only found yourself nodding.

Arlo, one of the scholars who lived under Helion's protection made it all that much more bearable. You had been slumped in the library for over a week by then. Trying to distract yourself from all the chaos. The yarning in your soul. You would flip open a book. But the page wouldn't turn for hours. Unable to concentrate on anything but the voices in your head. "Pick a book, and I'll tell you what's troubling you", he had said then. Mother, did your heart skip a beat when you saw him for the first time? He was truly a handsome man. Strongly built. And with that mass of muscle, you would never even suspect him of being so soft. But even his moves were laced with a thread of gentleness. That softness that simply embraced you.

Arlo gave you a glimpse of what you wanted the most. Satisfied that longing for being no one again. Not a Vanserra anything but that. A chance for freedom once more. Nothing that promised the same highs or brought you the same lows. No, because he wasn't the man that you were chasing. Wasn't it the soul that your whole existence cried out for at night. Even with him moving between his legs and your back pressed against one of the statues in your father's gardens, you couldn't help but picture Azriel there, and you hated it. Hated that you couldn't escape the shadow singer.

Hated that the highs wore off faster than you would have liked. Because Arlo was so sweet, Mother knew how kind and caring he was, but the light he bore blinded you. It was too perfect. Too smooth. It made your damaged parts ache because you were nothing but an imperfection next to him. And that's what weighed on you. The darkness. The darkness that lingered, the darkness that was a part of you. A part that you couldn't rip out. It was there, and it was suffering between these perfect white walls and crystal chandeliers. Because this wasn't you. It had nothing that made you feel like yourself. It was a true state of static nothingness, and for that, you couldn't settle because it was leaving you lonely.

Night after night, Azriel woke up drenched in sweat. Night after night, he saw you. He felt you. And it drove him crazy. He could swear he saw glimpses of your days. He saw you. He saw that you weren't alone. He felt the sadness that twisted you. He felt the pleasure that your body scoured into. Brought by another male. Making Azriel roar at the pain and suffering it brought him. What a strange thing the band was! As if it too was blaming Azriel. Torturing him on its behalf. He saw you smiling, but he knew that your smile no longer belonged to him. No, it was brought by the male, whom you looked at as if the whole world turned around him. You looked at Azriel like that once, and now… Now, he wished he could just rip his heart out.

"Uncle Az, Uncle Az, you came", Nyx messily flew into his uncle's arms, wrapping himself around his neck. Azriel caught the boy quickly, pressing him closer to his chest. Managing to draw out a tight smile. The boy looked over his uncle's shoulder and asked, "Where's Aunty, Y/N?", the pang in Azriel's heart twisted. He hoped you would show up. You loved Nyx and the boy, well, he was fascinated by you. "She…", Azriel trills off. He never even thought about this. He never thought about how he was going to tell the people who didn't know about what happened. How he would cover up the fact that you were no longer together. That you weren't together because of him. Because Azriel lost control over his emotions and hurt you. He was one of those men. Not any better than Beron himself.

"Is she playing hide and seek?", Nyx twisted in Azriel's arms, "I need to go protect the cake". The boy quickly padded away, and Azriel caught Feyre's eyes from across the room. She held the shadow singer's gaze until a shien of sadness painted over them, and she shook her head. You weren't coming. The empty chair looked almost jarring. So out of place. So empty.

"Could I?", Azriel goes back to one of the first diners you all had. He had caught onto your sleepy frame. You tried to stay awake so hard, keeping eye contact with Cassian, who was so deep into the story that he was telling. Until Azriel spoke, and you instantly turned to him, "Could you what?", you asked, "Hold you.. I mean…", Azriel quickly cleared his throat, "Would you like to lean against me? This doesn't look too comfortable". And it wasn't. Your hand was going numb, and your wrist ached. You smiled up at him shyly. Back then, a part of him was sure that you would reject him. But you didn't. You leaned right into him, arms crossed over his neck, as you pulled yourself closer to Azriel's chest. Now his arms were empty. Cold and truly discussed him.

"Are you busy?", you cracked the doors to Lucien's office slightly. The hours were late, and the chance of him being asleep was high; however, the dim lights from beneath the door left you hopeful. "No, come in", his smooth voice rang out. Lucien quickly put his pen down. All of his attention was now set on you. You loved that about him so much. Well, learned to love. That when you needed him, he was there fully. It wasn't just a pinch of attention. He was there. Always ready. Always willing.

"You should be sleeping, missy", Lucien stated, the corner of his lips tilting upward as you frowned. "Oh, don't you start parenting me around", you padded towards his chair, opting for the little ottoman that stood close by. "What's keeping you up?", the velvet sound of Lucien's voice pierced the silence once more. Your sad eyes hurt him too deeply. Hesitation filled your senses. You didn't talk much about the past. It felt as if it had all been blurred out and painted over. And you hoped you had managed to paint over your emotions, but Lucien leaned in to read you. And within a couple of months, you were an open book to him.

"Do you miss Velaris?", your voice was almost a whisper. Lucien knew that tonight would be hard. Hence, he too opted not to go to Nyx's birthday. Leaving you here seemed wrong. And he knew that no one else around the palace would understand the sorrows within you. "Not necessarily…", the fireling trailed off; however, you quickly specified, "You miss Elain?". Lucien froze for a second before a deep sigh left his lips. "I feel too sober for this kind of conversation", you chuckled. Yet it wasn't a happy chuckle; it carried worries and sadness. The almost bitter one left a tingling loneliness. "I miss her, yes. But not seeing her makes it easier in a way," Lucien replied. His eyes were now as distant as yours as he watched ahead of himself. Without a doubt he pictured Elain.

The silence surrounded you two. Draping the mystery of the unknown all over the office, you two let the pain you hid come back to the surface. However, the next words made you stagger, "Do you think of him?" It was almost funny how no one spoke Azriel's name around the place. It was always him—the man, that guy. Helion left him out of the court meetings that were held there. A part of you was thankful for that. Until you started missing his eyes. Hoping to see them. Hoping for at least a glimpse. Because your mind was so torn.

That was the man who showed you love first. Who saw you first. Who empowered you first. He gave you a voice when no one else listened. He made you his everything. And freefalling with him was the best thing that had happened to you. But then he was the one who ripped through your happiness. Stomped on it and shredded it to pieces. You tried to justify it. You did. And it was true, that Beron was to blame. He was the one who planted the seed of doubt, but…

"There are a lot of what-ifs in my head", you admitted, pulling your legs closer to your chest. Letting your dress pool all around you, "I try to drown them out but…", "The nagging voice doesn't stop?", you only nodded your head. His shoulder sank slightly because he understood. Lucien understood.

"It was like that with Jesminda", your eyes instantly grew wide, "You don't have to", you reassured him. Knowing full well the tragedy of the story. The loss. The pain. That twisted it. "It happened long ago; it's okay", Lucien smiled sadly, running his fingers through his hair. Allowing himself a moment of silence. "We had this one big fight, and we cut it all off. I said many things that I regretted, and so did she", you watched how his expression turned sadder with every word that he spoke. "I ended up not seeing her for months; pride was too big. Until I felt like I was going insane because all I could think of was her", and you did know because that was how you felt. Because it felt as if there was a growing ocean between you. One that spread and got deeper with every passing moment. And a part of you wanted it to grow, but then there was that small version of you that cupped the water with your raw hands, trying to make the void smaller.

"But that's how you know it's love", Your eyes shot up to look at Lucien, who had been watching you this whole time. You bit the inside of your cheek as the memory surfaced.

"Why are you being so sweet?", your fingers pushed through Azriel's messy hair, "Because I love you." Azriel watched you for a heartbeat. Your hopeful eyes had been glazed with a shine that glimmered in the morning sun. As if his words had just broken a curse. As if you had never imagined anyone saying those words to you. "I love you. All of you. Had for a while now", Azriel admitted right as your arms and legs wrapped around his strong torso, bringing him closer to you.

Your eyes welled up with tears, and you quickly turned your face to the side. Hating the fact that you were crying once again, "It sucks though…", you shook your head, brushing your fingers under your eyes quickly, "Because I'm starting to think that's not enough".

The wind rippled through your hair, and the skirt of your dress fluttered behind you. The sky was pitch black. The darkness soothed the pain, and the cool nibbles of wind made you feel more alive than ever before. The sound of the fast stream beneath you chimed more like a lullaby. With hands wrapped around you, let yourself feel the sorely missed sense of belonging. There was no light; only nightfall surrounds you.

Yet your eyes seem to have opened up on their own. And there it was. The image you feared the most. One you had never pictured before, and yet it resembled the worst fear in your life. Your heart skips a beat. Right there in front of you, stood the figure you could've identified no matter where you were. Either in the brightly lit room or the darkest corners of the Earth. You wouldn't need to see it to know. All you would have to do was feel.

"No", you said under your breath. The male stood at the edge of the cliff, shoulder-slumped, his head hanging low. He was done. He was simply done. There was no sense of life about him. A shell of a soul that has given up on everything. "Don't you dare", you said a bit louder, trying to cross the distance between the two of you. The hills now seemed impossible to cross. All the sharp edges seemed to intensify. Your hands slipped alongside your feet no matter what you did; no matter how hard you tried to crawl toward him, you simply couldn't.

"Azriel, don't you dare jump", you shouted at the top of your lungs, screeching as you watched him step closer and closer. Merciless waves crashed beneath him. He was muttering something under his breath, something so distant, and it felt impossible that you could hear him, but he was calling your name and muttering as a prayer, as a cry for help. You did the same, calling and calling to him, hoping to catch his attention. His eyes filled up with tears, as helplessness tore through you, and then he jumped. That was it; he was falling, and you couldn't do anything. The most painful scream escaped your lips as you washed his body and submerged it in the cold water.

"Azriel, Azriel", you roared, falling to your knees. "Azriel", your body jolted upward. Your hands clenched the sheets beneath your body, body soaked in sweat. Your breaths were shallow. They didn't seem to want it to linger in your lungs. And then you were up. Pulling the first thing over your body. You could feel your heart pumping in your throat. Those same angry tears were now streaming down your cheeks. You stilled for a moment. Closing your eyes and clenching your fist, you felt the now familiar sense of darkness surround you. You didn't know where to go. But you trusted your heart to get you where you needed to be.

"Azriel", you muttered your mantra as the spinning stopped. The familiar scent filled your senses, subsiding your anxiety, yet you knew that you were not going to rest until you saw him. "Y/N?", it was more of a question than anything else as he stepped out of the shadows as if you were just yet another of his hallucinations. Afraid to step any closer because he might just chase you away.

Here he stood. The male you haven't seen in months. He wasn't drowning. He wasn't at the bottom of Sidra. He hadn't jumped. You let out a shaky breath. "You…", you muttered, stepping closer to Azriel, eyes still lingering all around his frame. "You jumped…" Azriel frowned; equally as much concern now laced his features. "Jumped?" You nodded your head, still fighting for air. "I saw… you…", Azriel's hands pulled you closer to him. And his warmth poured into you. The shouting in your head died down. It's all settled. "It's just a bad dream, a nightmare", he said softly, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

You pulled away ever so slightly so you could see him. Look at him. Watch him say, "Your eyes…", you almost gasped when you noticed the dark circles beneath them and the slightly red tinge all around. "Sleep is not on my side as of lately", he chuckled slightly, but you could feel the pain there. That same pain that you've been sharing for months now. Had he been aware all this time? Had he looked after himself at all? "Don't cry, please, love", Azriel gently wiped away the tears that you didn't even know were streaming down your cheeks once more, "I caused you enough pain". Yet you shook your head at his words, reaching up to cup his face, the need to pull him closer awakening inside you. A need to feel him almost like your skin.

"Azriel, I've been thinking…", but you never got to finish as Azriel stepped back, pulling you away from his embrace. Yet still clasping your hands, he whispered, "Don't…", and you could hear the shaking in his voice, "Don't forgive me". A sob slips past your lips as you watch him. Watched as Azriel fought the sting in his eyes. How he tried to steady himself but failed. "Truth be told, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't think I was alive until you came into my life", he continued, now allowing his thoughts to flow. Followed by the touch that stung him. Because he knew it was one of the last. That he couldn't bask in it. That he couldn't let himself enjoy the warmth of your skin. Because you would fade away eventually.

"And mother, did I fear every day that you would disappear. That I would have to find out what living without you feels like", a cry slipped past his lips. "Az…", you muttered, biting your wobbly lip, but he shook his head. "I just want you to know a few things", the shadow singer cupped your cheek, and you leaned into it. Lean into the touch that your body has been craving this whole time. "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry for what I did, and believe me. Even on my dying bed, I'll be cursing myself for it", he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours as your nails dug into his shoulders, "And I love you. I love you so much". You didn't trust your words, so you never gave him an answer. And he never got to know that a small part of you forgave him. That in the future, your paths may cross, and maybe just maybe love will be the only emotion there. That it was now. That your heart beats for him and him only.

And no, this love wasn't perfect. But neither were you two. Perfect wasn't a thing that could exist in this world. Perfection belonged in museums and exhibitions but not in day-to-day life. And maybe letting yourself bleed for the night in each other's arms was better than not bleeding at all. And maybe ripping that golden thread from each other's souls was the best thing you could've done for one another that night.

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All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideing @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468 @courtofjurdan @bubybubsters

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel x you #azriel #shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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